


The Evidence of Things Hoped For

by Onlymystory



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Cooking, F/F, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nile POV, So many family feels, Therapy, lots of headcanons, therapy for everyone, with a heavy dose of immortal husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory
Summary: “You’re talking about 200 years of history, Nile,” says Copley when she calls. “Do you really think you can fix that in six months?”“First off,” replies Nile, “I am not fixing anything. I’m not a damn therapist. This mess needs to be fixed because I don’t get an out. There’s not a world where I just fuck off to do my own thing. I could argue for a few years with my family, but well, Booker tried that and look where that’s got us.”“So you think this break will help?”Nile shrugs before remembering that Copley can’t see her. “Help or hurt, we aren’t working right now. Not as a team or a family. It’s one thing to realize that they missed a lot of what’s been going on with Booker, with what he’s been suffering from. It’s another to assume that knowing the past, changes the present. He still betrayed them. It’s messy. That’s the bottom line.”Or the story of found family coming together through accountability, forgiveness, a lot of therapy, and maybe a miracle or two.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 147
Kudos: 707





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-divergent in that Quynh has not shown up at Booker’s. Otherwise this is post-movie and I took off running. As a reminder, I am not familiar with the comics.  
> Look, I have headcanons about who cooks in every fandom I’m a part of so I’m sorry in advance for all of the conversations about food.  
> If this is your first time giving this fic a try, I want to encourage you to read the first 2 chapters before deciding if its for you or not. See, when I wrote the first chapter, it was a stand-alone story, and I was kind of exorcising some thoughts and wanted to leave it at a hopeful point. A sort of hey more than one person dropped the ball here but now we have something to move towards in the future (it's hard to fully explain without spoiling).  
> Then it just kept percolating in my brain until the story was saying maybe it's not this easy though. Just because people want things to work out, doesn't mean they do. What does it look like to write not just the epilogue, but the next season? That's where Chapter 2 kicks off and in a lot of ways, takes the whole story back a few big steps. I like the way it works, it does what I wanted. But there's definitely a shift.   
> So I just want to say that if you read this first chapter and are thinking 'it's not bad, but everything gets solved a little too easy', then I would ask you to read at least some of chapter 2 and see what you think after that. If it's still not for you, no worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this first chapter is all about Nile, I am also dealing with found family issues and how to bring this group back together in the wake of Booker's betrayal.
> 
> If you're not in the mood for fic that tries to explore ways to bring Booker back into the fold, hit that back button. If you want a fic that forgives and forgets and moves on immediately...hit that back button. Otherwise, I hope you'll join me in this exploration of what found family can look like and the work it takes to get there.

Nile wants to argue more when they sentence Booker to one hundred years apart from them. She’s already tried convincing them to go easier on him, her mind unable to let go of the pain in his eyes and the utter despair in his voice. She’s not really sure why they can’t see it. But then again, it’s been a couple of centuries, so maybe they’ve grown used to thinking Booker is supposed to be this way. That there’s always this cloud of darkness around him, a sort of opposing effect to the light that seems to emanate from Joe at every turn.

She thinks a century is too long. 

Booker’s only had 2 centuries to be immortal--which yes, that does sound crazy as she thinks it--but it feels like the others’ sense of time has changed, whereas Booker’s understanding is closer to hers.

A hundred years must feel like a fair assessment to Nicky and Joe. Like a blip in the concept of time to Andy.

And yet, Nile can still hear the things Booker told her and so she tries to argue a little bit until she eventually understands the message. She’s new and she’s only in this meeting to observe. Booker tried to keep her out of it, to keep her an unknown, and even in the end, he didn’t betray her. She’s not the one to exact justice.

So she takes the stairs with the rest of them, leaving Booker solitary on a sliver of the Thames, accepting that for now, she has to go.

She just hates that everything still feels a little bit broken.

* * *

They tell Copley to find people, people to help, people that they can have an assurance that it was the right thing to save them. 

The news out of London reports that the doctor who had been ripping out pieces of each of them for her tests is also dead. Nile looks up in surprise at that, she had only knocked her out during the fight. Though keeping her alive, when she knew about them, didn’t really seem like an option. 

Nile looks to Andy or Joe, the easy assumptions, but it’s Nicky that emits a growl of emotion from his lips. “She thought I was a mouse.”

“For me?” asks Joe. Joe’s eyes shine bright and dangerous for a moment, as though daring someone to say anything. Nicky comes to him, tilts his chin up so Joe can’t look at anyone else. “For you my love,” he says in Tunisian. “Always for you.”

* * *

Many days are happy and pleasant and Nile can almost forget that she doesn’t die anymore. That this isn’t a normal life. 

Then she’ll catch a glimpse of Andy, see the haunted look that always lingers over losing Quynh so long ago.

And Nile remembers that this isn’t so normal after all. That a lot of this life is really damn difficult.

* * *

“You make it look so easy,” says Nile.

“What?” asks Nicky.

“Immortality. Love.” She gestures a hand through the air, motioning at Nicky and Joe. Even now, they move in partnership through the room, cleaning their weapons and knowing just when the other needs a new rag or a touch of polish. She supposes it’s not that hard, there’s only so many things you can use to clean a gun or a sword, but it’s the grace of the movements that’s so arresting. “You both make this life look so simple.”

“There’s nothing simple about it,” replies Joe as Nicky shakes his head, his eyes kind but saddened.

Nile gives them a look she has perfected since becoming an immortal, the look that says don’t start with me, that is a ridiculous excuse and you know it. It’s a look she usually directs at Andy, but needs must and all that.

Joe sets his sword across his legs. “We are an interracial gay couple, Nile. And in nearly a thousand years, the way others look at us hasn’t changed.”

“Isn’t it getting better?” she asks.

Nicky shrugs. “The laws are getting better. People, as individuals, get better.”

“But countries?” continues Joe. “Cultures? In this aspect, there aren’t many places where we can simply and comfortably be in love and have little concern that no one will hate us for it. There haven’t been for many years. Such things wear on you after a thousand years. Love? Yes, love is easy. I love Nicolo as easy and simply as I take a breath. He is as natural to me as the dew on the morning grass, as a gentle sleep, as the sun rises in the East. Immortality takes a great deal more work.”

Unsurprisingly, Nicky responds to Joe by throwing himself in his lap and kissing him, deep and passionate. 

Nile is about to make her exit when Nicky swears. “Shit!”

“Nicolo?” asks Joe.

Nicky swings back to the other side of the couch to reveal a nasty gash across his shin. It’s already healing but the blood is messy. At the same time, his motion kicks the sword they’d forgotten was still across Joe’s legs to the floor.

“Oh damn,” says Nile. 

Nicky smiles ruefully. “Maybe I should restrict myself to only kissing you with one sword in your lap,” he says to both Nile and Joe’s immediate laughter.

* * *

For a few months, there really isn’t even a chance to spend too much time processing her new life. They have to disappear so Copley can erase all evidence of the last few weeks. Then they go on several rescue missions because while they may have been his greatest trophy, they were far from the first humans that Merrick had taken to experiment on. They spend months dismantling every bit of the company, everything Merrick had ever touched.

But eventually, things began to settle. Copley asked them to take a breather in a non-tourist friendly area, to minimize how much concern there would be over social media, at least while he was erasing the last bits of evidence they existed from Merrick’s surveillance.

They end up in eastern Croatia, just outside of Osijek. A town small enough to not catch tourist interest but big enough for them to blend in well enough. There’s a safe house there, already furnished and they’ve barely dropped bags off inside before Nile is being dragged back out. Andy walks her through the perimeter, every possible outlet of escape, including a hidden car. It’s unlikely they’ll need it, but Andy is always extremely thorough. 

Joe and Nicky are clearly busy with housekeeping chores while they’re setting up security because when Nile follows Andy back into the house, sweaty and thirsty, the layer of dust has vanished, the mustiness in the air is cleared, and the house smells of fresh bread. 

There’s a big skillet full of tomatoes and peppers bubbling on the stove that looks and smells heavenly. “That smells amazing, Nicky,” says Nile, pinching off a corner of one of the loaves of bread.

“You hear that, Joe?” laughs Nicky.

Joe snaps at him with a towel. “Just because you are always charming shop owners out of pastries doesn’t make you a cook.”

“You didn’t make this?” asks Nile, gesturing between Nicky and the food.

Nicky distracts Joe with a kiss, stealing the spoon out of his head and stirring the pot. “But of course, I am Chef Nicolo!”

Joe snorts and snaps him again, making Nicky yelp and jump away. “Chef Nicolo should know better than to stir the shakshuka at this stage.”

Nicky makes a face. “I’m not that inept in a kitchen,” he returns with a fake pout. “I’m better than Andy.”

“Hey now!” Andy throws a shoe at him that nearly hits the pan as Nicky easily dodges the projectile. Joe’s subsequent glare has Andy throwing up her hands in surrender.

“If you are so skilled in a kitchen,” says Joe, “You may have the honor of cleaning up.”

Nicky bows. “But of course, maestro. Lots of soap and steel wool for the cast iron, yes, my love?” His voice is teasing as he dances away from Joe’s indignant shouts. 

Nile's pretty sure they’re going to end up making out for at least ten minutes before they reemerge--that’s what past precedent tells her--so she turns down the burner slightly and turns an inquisitive look at Andy. She also slices off a decent slice of bread this time, because it’s delicious and now she has to wait to eat the rest of dinner.

Andy pours herself a drink and explains. “Joe says there are two types of cooks. Those that choose the dish they want to make and go buy all the necessary items for it. And those who look at the ingredients in front of them and make a dish out of that. Nicky is the first. Joe is the latter. Joe cooks most of the time because he’s good at it and quick.”

“And Nicky’s not?”

“When Nicky cooks, it’s more of an ordeal,” offers Andy.

“I heard that!” shouts Nicky from the other room, then shrieks in response to whatever Joe did. Nile debates responding, thinks better of it, and pours herself a drink as well. If the boys take too long, she’ll crack the eggs in and finish dinner herself.

* * *

It takes Nile a while to figure out what faith looks like, what her beliefs look like now that she's immortal. Andy made it pretty clear early on that she views faith and religion as a joke as something for people to foolishly believe and Nile gets that, she does because she sees the things people do in the name of religion and in the name of God, though not in his image. And 7000 years is a long time to try and hold a belief. But the idea that she could reach that same state scares her. And Booker, well if Booker ever believed in a god, they’ve long since parted ways. 

She hasn’t asked Joe or Nicky yet, but that seems pretty obvious since both come from religions that wouldn’t approve of their relationship.

Eventually, Andy leaves for a few days, stating she needs a personal leave. Nile learns later that it’s the anniversary of the day Andy and Quynh met. Nile tries to keep her prayers private, not wanting or needing to be flashy, but the boys want to play cards and she begs out for an hour at least, saying she feels like she needs some time to talk to God.

“Tell him I said hello,” says Nicky with a wave.

Joe snickers. “You say that as though you aren’t always talking to him. He’s going to tell Nile to help you find a hobby.”

“Are you saying I need something to do?”

“Or someone to do.”

Nile looks between them and thinks better of most of his comments. “I always put in a good word for the team,” she says finally.

Her voice must sound a little annoyed because both Nicky and Joe refocus. “I’m sorry, Nile,” says Nicky. “I can say hello in my own evening prayers.”

“You…” Nile hesitates. “You still pray?”

Joe’s the one who answers. “Of course we do. Relationships are weak without conversation.”

“Oh,” says Nile. “Huh. I guess I just thought you’d be dismissive, waiting on me to lose my faith like the rest of you.”

“I’m confused,” answers Nicky. “Nothing is lost. I am as sure of my God as I am of Joe.”

“As am I,” echoes Joe. 

“You still believe?” asks Nile. “Andy just made it sound…”

“Andy is allowed her beliefs, or lack thereof, just as the rest of us are,” says Joe, interrupting her train of thought. “We are all somewhat private about our beliefs, out of respect for each other, but Nicky and I have always been firm in our respective faiths.”

“Always?” asks Nile, a little bit amazed.

Nicky laughs. “Yes. Sort of. I will admit there were times when it was difficult to reconcile my love for God with my love for Yusuf. Based simply on what I’d been taught during my mortal years.”

“What changed?” asks Nile, because Nicky doesn’t seem to have that sort of guilt anymore. She doesn’t think Joe’s eyes would crinkle when he smiles if Nicky still felt that conflicted about their love.

“Little things over the centuries made it easier and I was always sure of Yusuf,” answers Nicky. “But it was in the 17th century that the last of my doubt went away.”

“Brother Lawrence,” says Joe fondly.

“I know that name,” says Nile in surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t be, the people they met would be a part of history now, but this feels more interconnected, more personal somehow, to have a familiarity with the teachings of someone they met in person.

“There are some people, I think, that upon meeting their God, will find that He welcomes them with joy,” observes Joe. “There are a very, very few who He will greet as though they were in the middle of a wonderful conversation and had just been momentarily interrupted by their death. Brother Lawrence belongs in that group.”

Nicky picks up the thread. “We were coming off the European Renaissance and the Reformation. Except for those first decades when I first fell in love with Yusuf, I don’t think I’d ever been feeling more torn. My faith in God was firm, but my love for Joe unwavering. It seemed I would be forever at war with myself.”

“What happened?”

“We were together dealing with some bandits near the monastery and were invited to stay and recover. I wanted to be respectful,” says Nicky.

“I wanted him to be honest,” interjects Joe.

“In the end,” continues Nicky, “Brother Lawrence commented on our relationship within three day’s time. _How blessed you must be, he said, that God, in seeing your great love for him, would give you such capacity to love another._ He wouldn’t even let me try to protest.”

 _“Man makes up many rules_ , he told us,” adds Joe. _“And men make many mistakes. Our Lord is beyond reproach, he makes no mistakes, and I know he would not create such great love by accident._ I told him he might want to double-check on that the next time he talked to God.”

Nicky snickers. “Brother Lawrence replied t _hat he was always speaking with Him and as the monastery is still standing and the beer still flowing, it seems evident that God still loves you_.” He smiles and takes Joe’s hand in his. “Anyway, we had many good conversations over the next few years and I’ve never doubted my love or my faith since. He helped me to see that there was no need to be at war with myself. The capacity for love is much greater than we often realize.”

* * *

There are moments, brief ones, that make Nile wonder about Andy. If maybe, if there could be. She’ll get a look, a touch, something that thrills Nile to her very bones.

At first, Nile assumed Andy wouldn’t bother because she was too young or that Andy was too old or because what would be the point when she’ll be dead soon enough. 

Except, whatever was shoving Andy back into the land of mortals for a time, suddenly stopped.

They were on a case about five months after the Merrick situation when a bullet struck Andy in the back of the head.

In retrospect, Nile was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Joe and Nicky understood the need to cover Andy just as she did. But it’s one thing to know, and another to have centuries of experience where covering means when they get shot, you shoot back so they can return to life.

Except before they had more than a moment to react, Andy was back on her feet, swearing like the sailor she’d probably been more than once and reaching for her ax.

After that, Andy seemed different, more certain, like she knew she was no longer flirting with death. Joe told Nile this was the Andromache they knew from years past. Almost.

But in the end, Nile can see that as long as Quynh and Andy are apart, there will never be a chance for more. Find Quynh and things could open. In every way, Joe and Nicky are just that. Two names. Period. Those two forever. Andromache is an and. Andromache and Quynh and. Quynh and Andy and…

So Nile collects her emotions in her heart and remembers she has all the time in the world.

* * *

Nearly a year after the Merrick situation, they cut things a little too close for comfort. Copley orders them all to lay low in a safe house while he cleans up all evidence of where they’ve been and what they’ve done over the last weeks.

Nile isn’t used to sleeping in the same room with the others and it worries her. When they don’t have an immediate threat, they all have their own sleeping spaces--not that Nile has any interest in interrupting Joe and Nicky when they’re in bed. Some things you don’t need to know about family. 

But there are a few things she did learn from Booker, things she’s managed to keep quiet, not wanting anyone to have the same disdain for her and her inability to just deal with it.

There’s no help for it though. She can’t stay up forever--apparently Andromache tested that theory a couple of times and ended up actually dying from lack of sleep once, saying it was just as terrible as it sounds--so she eventually settles into her piece of the bed. She’s tucked at the back end, next to the wall, an argument she lost immediately. Andy has a pallet by the door. Joe is next to Nile, curled around Nicky, who faces the door just as Andy does. 

It's like the dreams know she has witnesses. They come on stronger and worse than usual.

Quynh dies over and over and over again until Nile jolts awake in bed, unable to keep from jostling Joe.

She breathes hard, wiping the sweat off her brow with her t-shirt.

“Nile?” asks Andy, her eyes worried in the low light. They didn’t risk sleeping in the dark. 

“Sorry,” gasps Nile, fighting to calm her nerves. “Bad dream. Just go back to sleep, it’s fine.” She lies down herself, closes her eyes tightly, and refuses to acknowledge the kind look she knows Joe is giving her. It won’t stay kind if she turns this into a big deal or an ongoing complaint.

Eventually, they seem to accept that she’s not talking about it and all slip back into sleep.

An hour later, Nile screams herself awake. “Motherfucker!” she pants out as she works to catch her breath.

“Are you going to lie again about being okay?” asks Nicky.

Nile shakes her head. “No, I mean, I am, I’ll be okay. Just...fuck!” She digs a hand into Joe’s leg next to her, trying to remind her mind of the tangible things around her. She’s in a room in an old bunker. The smell of diesel and damp walls in the air. She can hear Nicky’s voice. Joe is steady under her hand. She’s not in a cage, she’s not drowning, she’s here.

“No wonder Booker’s always drunk,” she mutters bitterly. 

“Booker?” asks Nicky.

“You got vodka,” Nile asks, or demands of Andy, ignoring the question.

Nicky’s just watching her, she can tell from her peripheral, but she refuses to acknowledge his gaze until she’s done drinking.

“Nile,” says Nicky when she passes the bottle back. “Why do you equate your nightmares with Booker’s drinking?”

“Just you know,” says Nile. “When you have this level of nightmares every night, a permanent state of intoxication starts sounding like a better idea.”

“You have these nightmares every night?” asks Andy, drawing in closer to the conversation. 

Nile nods then shakes her head, then shrugs. “I mean at least 3 nights a week. If the job was rough they tend to happen every night for at least a couple weeks after.”

“Tell us about them.” Nicky sits fully up on the bed and waits as Joe leans into him. 

“And what your dreams have to do with Booker,” adds Andy.

Nile wants to just take another couple of swigs off the bottle and knock herself out, not get into this, but it doesn’t look like she’s getting out of this. “I dream of Quynh,” she answers. “Always of Quynh. Drowning and screaming and dying and coming back to life in a panic. Over and over again. I’m exhausted and it hasn’t even been a year. It’s not hard to understand why Booker would be so desperate to die after two centuries of this shit.”

“Two centuries?” Joe frowns at her, even as Nicky’s face wrinkles up as he processes. Andy’s gone very still on the floor. And Nile...Nile wonders, could they really not know? Because it seems like…

“You said we dream of each other until we meet,” begins Nile. 

“We do,” answers Nicky. “It’s why you dream of Quynh right now. But it will fade in time, the dreams fade.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Of course they do,” says Joe in a slightly dismissive tone. “Otherwise Booker would have spent 200 plus years with these dreams, he’d be crazier than he is.”

“Jesus,” swears Andy as Nile's words land with a horrible clarity.

“Booker,” breathes out Nicky in devastated tones.

“Joe,” says Nile firmly, “Booker’s been dreaming of Quynh dying for two hundred years. He just stopped telling you when everyone made it clear they were sick of his whining.”

Joe’s eyes look as suddenly stricken as the others in the room. And this, this makes so much more sense. Booker kept his secrets and they misinterpreted and centuries later, they were in this mess. 

“Why wouldn’t he tell us?” asks Andy, her question somewhere between actually asking and just voicing everyone else’s thoughts. 

“I think sometimes you forget,” says Nile gently, “that if I’m the baby of the group, in a manner of speaking, Booker is the teenager. You’ve reached the point of thinking about time in terms of millennia, he’s barely into his third century. And he thinks, he acts, like if he doesn’t adapt as well as the rest of you, he’s going to be left alone again.”

“We have to go get him,” says Joe in broken tones. 

Andy’s voice is steel. “We’ll start looking for him at first light.”

“He’s in Paris,” says Nicky.

They all look at him in surprise. Well, Joe doesn't look all that surprised that Nicky would forgive, which makes sense, considering he knows Nicky better than any of them.

Nicky’s gaze is gentle but slightly judging. “We're hurt. He’s still family. I was never going to lose sight of him, even at a distance.”

It’s those words that reassure Nile. Joe was the most visibly angry, though she's learning that Joe wears his heart on his sleeve and is never afraid to show how he feels, whatever the emotion. Nicky's emotions stay tucked in a little tighter, though they can run vicious if he's pushed. And Andy...Andy's the hardest sometimes, because Nile's starting to notice that Andy will express emotions out of duty, out of an expectation that something is supposed to be said here, than actually speaking her truth. She seemed like she'd forgiven Booker almost immediately that day on the beach. But over time, Nile's noticed the anger and hurt that built up. Now though, now maybe there's hope that they can all start finding their way.

Nile looks to all of them, holding eyes with Andy the longest. “Then I guess tomorrow we’re going to Paris.

* * *

They reach Booker’s apartment easily enough once they make it to Paris, having traveled by a combination of train and bus and their own feet. Nile learned quickly that if they get on a train at small-town stops, there’s rarely any need to worry about security cameras. Walking a few extra miles to avoid detection is never an issue.

The apartment is empty when they reach it, Booker's nowhere to be found, though it’s obvious he’s still living there. They have a quick debate about whether they should go look for him before deciding to wait there. Booker will be back eventually.

When he does come stumbling in, he stops short at the sight of them. “Andy?” he asks, his hand grasping at the wall for support.

“Book,” says Andy, nothing but love in her voice. “We are so sorry.”

Booker stands in front of them, eyes a little too wild and haunted, his form shrunken from the man they’re familiar with. “Where am I supposed to go now?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“Go?” asks Andy.

“If you’re here, I have to go right. A hundred years, that’s the sentence.” He shudders and visibly pulls what Nile has seen and the others now know is his usual mask around his emotions. “So where do you want me to go?”

“Booker,” answers Nicky in the kindest voice he can possibly muster, “we want you to stay.”

And Booker finally, utterly breaks.

* * *

Joe is the one who first figures out how to approach the sobbing man in front of them. He becomes a presence in front of them, big in a way that Nile is used to associating with herself or with Nicky. Andromache is a presence to be sure, but she moves through a room, whereas they stand and exist in it. Joe usually moves the same, this sort of unerring grace in him.

But now he’s the first to approach, the one who wraps his arms around Booker and pulls him in close. “I’m sorry,” says Joe. “We should have learned to listen to your heart a long time ago.”

They stand for a long time like that until the harsh sounds of Booker’s tears become soft even breaths as he falls asleep, exhausted, and overwhelmed.

“Thank you, Nile,” says Andy, when they’ve gotten Booker tucked into bed. None of them are willing to leave him alone--Nile suspects the older three won’t be for a while, not after realizing how much they missed by taking Booker at face value--so they’ve all found places in the room around him.

Nicky and Joe sit against the headboard on either side of Booker, running gentle fingers through his hair, their free hands never straying from each other. Andy sits in a chair at Booker’s bedside, her hands holding his. Nile just lays back and stretches out on the floor, but she puts her feet up on Andy’s lap, knowing they all need to feel connected to each other.

“For what?” she asks now.

“For seeing what we couldn’t,” answers Nicky. 

“Mmm,” says Nile in response. This is her new family, for better and for worse. She’s going to work just as hard as the rest of them--harder--to keep them whole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy.
> 
> So. There is a lot of discourse in fandom these days about Booker. And discourse is good. It helps to remind us that there's a difference between canon and canon interpretation. That it's one thing to say you watched a scene and the reactions/facial expressions made you want to tell a story from a particular perspective and another thing to declare your interpretation as the facts.  
> The Old Guard is a pretty revolutionary movie. We all love that. Characters like Joe and Nile are a revelation. Fandom however still has a lot of white issues. (To be clear, I'm a queer white woman so I know that I can be, and probably have been part of the problem). And the discourse is getting into that and the way, whether intentional or not, we can be approaching some of these characters through racist lenses. Especially when it comes to the defense of Booker.
> 
> I am first and foremost a Joe fan. I will ride or die for Joe all day long. But I do like Booker and I like the ideas of his trauma and I like the idea of exploring some of that.  
> I'm also one hell of a sucker for found family and for me, found family means everyone. So I want to keep exploring how these characters come together as a family. Without blaming the wrong people or excusing Booker's actions. That's what I'm trying to do here. It definitely looks different. Two weeks ago, I expected this second chapter to look very different. I had a lot of poly feels. But I've been trying to listen to other people, to the discourse. And this chapter has changed. It's not poly at all. It's a lot of therapy and ugly emotions and difficult conversations and hopefully, it fills the void for you that it does for me.
> 
> TL;DR-If you're not in the mood for fic that tries to explore ways to bring Booker back into the fold, hit that back button. If you want a fic that forgives and forgets and moves on immediately...hit that back button. Otherwise, I hope you'll join me in this exploration of what found family can look like and the work it takes to get there.

For all that getting Booker and bringing him home was easy, the rest is one giant mess. Call it a curse or call it a blessing, but the sobering Booker up part takes very little time. The bigger struggle is keeping him around. 

By their second week in Paris, everyone in the group has had to go find him at least once, with Andy and Nile taking the bulk of the retrievals. 

He doesn’t trust this, doesn’t trust that they have forgiven him, and that’s fair, thinks Nile. Finding out you were working off bad intel doesn’t mean you can completely reverse years of thinking. Booker’s clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop and running before it can hit him.

Andy keeps trying an approach of barreling through the problems, like if they face them head-on, eventually things will get better. 

At night, they’re all together, the others clearly worried about these centuries of nightmares. But during the day, when all the ugliness between them is there in the light, when Booker’s eternal pessimism rears its head or Nicky’s simmering rage boils over, all of the problems are still there. 

They hate what they missed but they also hate what he did. Trying to move past that seems like an insurmountable task.

They start with trying to just dive back into work. Do some good in the world, take on a new mission. Which, if you were asking Nile, is a bad idea. This isn’t a normal go back to work and power through kind of situation.

She’s right.

Their first mission is a disaster. Andy second-guesses everything, insists on so many sweeps that eventually Copley comes in on the comms, gives them a sixty-second warning, and shuts the power down on a six-block range, thus nullifying the mission completely.

The second, they bring Booker along, then make him wait in the getaway car, and Nicky spends the entire mission making snarky comments about Booker, without ever saying a word to him. (Technically Nicky barely even acknowledges Booker’s back at all, but that’s an issue Nile’s tabling for now.) It gets Nicky shot three different times, until finally Joe starts yelling at him. It doesn’t take long at all for the yelling to result in the two making out in a hallway while Nile and Andy hiss at them to pay some fucking attention for once. 

At least they do end up still killing the traffickers they’re after, to the soundtrack of noises that Nile really never wanted to hear, so the mission isn’t a complete loss. They miss the chance to get more information about the network though. 

The last straw for Nile is when the others decide to just bring Booker with them, in an attempt to treat him as though nothing has changed. 

Because yeah, that’s going to work. 

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

* * *

So Nile works on a new plan. She calls Copley and tells him they’re taking a break. Six months, no missions, nothing. He’s welcome to make a list of where they can start in the future, of people who need their help, but she insists on six months. 

“You’re talking about 200 years of history, Nile,” says Copley when she calls. “Do you really think you can fix that in six months?”

“First off,” replies Nile, “I am not fixing anything. I’m not a damn therapist. This mess needs to be fixed because I don’t get an out. There’s not a world where I just fuck off to do my own thing. I could argue for a few years with my family, but well, Booker tried that and look where that’s got us.”

“You could learn from his mistakes.”

“I am. I learned that as much as it hurts to know I’ll never see my family again, I know that I got a goodbye. Being a Marine made sure of that. There was always the chance that I wasn’t coming home, so we never took it for granted,” says Nile. “When I left my family, I left with the hope of returning, but the fear that I wouldn’t. If I go back, it’s ugly and it’s messy and too many people get hurt. If I go back, I have to lay low, somehow keep under the military’s radar, which as we both know, isn’t easy.” Nile knows her mother. There’s not a chance in hell she’s going to be able to just pretend she was able to come home and never see any of the people she served with. For fuck’s sake, Jay grew up in the same neighborhood. There will be questions.

“And then,” Nile continues, “there’s the leaving again. It’s not the 1840s. If I left, they would expect me to keep in touch until what? I just die? Fake a car accident. No. My family was as close to prepared as anyone can ever be when I went to war. Trying to add in a few extra years hurts all of us.”

Copley’s voice is kind on the other end. “It doesn’t make it easier, Nile.”

“No,” she agrees, while silently praying for strength. “It doesn’t.”

“So you think this break will help?”

Nile shrugs before remembering that Copley can’t see her. “Help or hurt, we aren’t working right now. Not as a team or a family. It’s one thing to realize that they missed a lot of what’s been going on with Booker, with what he’s been suffering from. It’s another to assume that knowing the past, changes the present. He still betrayed them. It’s messy. That’s the bottom line.”

There’s quiet on Copley’s side of the line for a while. “Are you staying in Paris?” he asks finally. 

“No. I was thinking Agadir n Yighir,” answers Nile. “Joe and I won’t stand out, plus I looked through the files, the house they have there is pretty good sized and on the outskirts of the city, with some land. We should be able to attract minimal attention.”

“That’s still a somewhat touristy city. A small town might be better.”

“Even small towns have the internet,” says Nile. “A bunch of newcomers would stand out. If we go to a place that’s used to travelers, but certainly not on anyone’s top ten list, we can blend in a little better. And you shouldn’t have as much surveillance to worry about erasing.”

“Alright,” agrees Copley.

They spend the rest of the conversation working out a few logistics and Nile works on how to tell the others. 

* * *

In a somewhat uncharacteristic move, she chickens out a little, making Copley give the illusion of a mission. They fly into Marrakech, which sets everyone on edge, considering the last time they were there was the beginning of this mess.

Nile takes the driver’s seat once they’re outside the airport and have found the used car that Copley left for them in the long-term parking lot. It’s not until she’s clearly heading out of the city and not taking a circuitous route, that Joe taps her on the shoulder and makes a joke about it not being a weakness to use the gps.

“We’re um, not staying in Marrakech,” says Nile. She maybe speeds up just a touch, as though getting to their real destination any faster will help.

“Would it not be easier for the mission?” asks Nicky. 

“There’s actually not a mission.”

“There’s not a mission.” Andy’s tone is not pleased and Nile chooses not to glance in the rearview mirror to see her face. 

She’s realizing in this moment that lying about one situation in order to fix another that was caused by lack of trust was probably not the smartest decision. But she’s 26. Or well, 27. An actual 27. She’s allowed to make some dumb choices still. “I guess in a way, you could say there is,” she says, trying to explain. “But it’s more non-traditional.”

“Nile…” says Joe and his tone doesn’t sound any happier than the others.

“We’re going to the house in Agadir,” Nile says hurriedly. “Copley’s pulling all pending missions for six months.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because of me,” says Booker, before Nile can get another word in. “Because every mission is a disaster since you came and got me. Look, Nile, just turn around. I’ll go back to my century away and you all can keep saving the world.”

“No!” snap Nicky and Joe at the same time. 

And that right there is why they have to do this. Because none of them seem to really know how to approach things. 

“For better or worse, we’re a family. If at the end of this six months, we all believe that the best course of action is to go back to a split, then that’s what will happen. But until then, we’re going to spend time together without the pressure of a job. We’re going to talk.” Nile moves one hand towards the radio, ready to flip on music to drown out the outburst she knows is going to follow her last statement. 

“And we’re going to therapy.”

* * *

Therapy is brutal. Copley worked through nearly every contact he had to find someone. She’s not local, having agreed to fly in and live in the city simply for this six month contract. 

The first step they’re going to have to get past is figuring out how to talk to a therapist and be honest when they’re all immortal. It proves to be easier than Nile expects and she’s not sure she even wants to know what Copley does now. 

No one talks in the first session.

Or in the second.

“I can’t help if you aren’t willing to say anything,” says Doctor Harris.

“You can’t help anyway,” says Andy.

“That’s quite the assumption when you won’t even give me the opportunity to try.”

Andy leans forward on her chair, hands clasped in front of her. “Not really. Our problems are very different from what you’d be used to. And while I appreciate that Nile wants to help, this isn’t the answer.”

“And why is that?”

“Fuck it,” says Andy. “Because you aren’t equipped to handle the issues of two centuries.”

Doctor Harris doesn’t even blink. “You’d be surprised. Though personally, I find the amount of time behind a problem often isn’t the issue, but the motivations, emotions, and reactions surrounding it that are. Now, what little information I was given going into this, was that you are dealing with an issue of a betrayal of trust and a lot of deep-seated resentment?”

Nile laughs in spite of herself. “To put it mildly.”

* * *

It still takes time. 

Doctor Harris makes it clear that there are no easy fixes, but there are solutions, if they’re willing to work towards them. 

Andy maintains this ‘lost a soldier’ mentality for a while, like if she’d just been paying attention, Booker wouldn’t have been so lost. 

“I didn’t become like this,” he says at one point. “I ran away from Napoleon’s army because we were all dying and I just wanted to die a little faster. Then I did. And I’ve been trying to make it stick ever since.”

* * *

Joe doesn’t know how to talk to Booker anymore.

Nicky doesn’t want to. 

Andy’s used to fighting or fucking through the few emotions she chooses to acknowledge and she can’t do either these days. 

“I feel like I’m torn in a million directions,” says Nile to Doctor Harris, ignoring the others’ immediate attempts to apologize. Harris makes them quiet down and listen anyway. “I want to be able to geek out over obscure artists with Joe and have the most ridiculously intense discussions about faith with Nicky and I love training with Andy and keeping the memories of my family alive with Booker.”

“But?” pushes Harris.

“But I don’t like being asked about Booker’s nightmares or if Joe’s smiling again or if Nicky will ever talk to Booker again. I feel like a child of divorce.”

* * *

They get assignments. 

Journals to fill out with specific events or memories or hurts or questions. 

A three-hour block, once a week, where they have to spend time together. All of them. They’re given permission to fight if they need to. No censoring of emotions or frustrations. But everyone in the same room, no silence allowed, and their therapy sessions don’t count. 

Family dinner becomes the easy solution, though it takes months for anything about the meal to actually be easy.

* * *

“I get jealous that you got lucky enough to find each other,” says Booker during one session. “I don’t hate you for it.”

“I do,” says Andy. “Sometimes. Sometimes it makes me hate you more than I thought it was possible to hate anyone.”

“Andy,” says Nicky softly.

“She’s gone. She’s been gone for so long and I look at you and I see us alone, terrified. I see her face, screaming for me to save her. I can’t save her, but you still have each other.”

It’s devastatingly silent, the only sound that of Joe’s occasional sniffle and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Sometimes I hate you,” says Andy again.

* * *

Joe prays more, here, in this place where there is space to breathe. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that his prayers are more visible. It becomes accepted that four times a day, Joe will take his things to the back garden and spend time in prayer. 

Booker and Andy look after him somewhat oddly at first, so Nile wonders how many things they have all missed about each other, each lost in their own grief for so long. 

Nicky prays regularly, but he only joins Joe at night, for Isha’a, his fifth and final prayer when they are alone in their own rooms.

Nile finds herself envious of the discipline. The Marines teach things not easily forgotten and sometimes she finds it harder to navigate faith in this new world and it’s few routines. 

Joe clearly sees the struggle, because there comes a day when he presents her with a prayer rug and suggests she join him. 

“I’m not Muslim,” she protests. 

“You don’t have to mimic my prayers,” says Joe. “But God listens all the same, no matter who you are or how you speak.”

So she follows, sets up her rug, and has her own quiet conversations. It eases more than she realized was hurting.

* * *

“I miss football,” says Joe, in the middle of one therapy session. 

“Football? Did you play at one time?”

Joe shakes his head. “I miss watching football. With Booker. I miss drinking beer and eating food so spicy he’s the only one who will try it, even though it makes him cry. I miss my brother.”

“We could watch a match…” suggests Booker. “I miss you too,” he adds in a softer voice. 

“I can’t...I can’t look at you without seeing Nicky on that floor.” Joe reaches out and holds on tight to the hand that Nicky offers. “When I kissed him that afternoon, once we were safe, my hands couldn’t run through his hair like usual. They got stuck in dried blood.”

Nicky turns Joe’s head towards him, stroking his cheek and kissing him softly. “I’ve been shot before, my love,” he says. “You never said the blood bothers you so much.”

“It didn’t...before,” says Joe haltingly. “Not like that. But we were losing Andy and Nile was, is, so new and he...he…”

“And I put you there,” finishes Booker. “Which isn’t the same as just happening on a regular job.”

Joe’s entire face crumbles. “I miss you and I hate you. What am I supposed to do with that?”

* * *

“Nile, what do you want to say to Booker?” asks Doctor Harris in an early session.

“Me?” Nile’s been trying to mostly keep quiet and listen to the others. She’s mostly been trying to internalize what she can from these meetings in hopes of not repeating history.

“Everyone else has spent some time expressing their emotions about his actions, but you’ve been rather quiet about your feelings.”

“He betrayed you too,” says Nicky coldly.

Except no, he didn’t, and Nile says as much. “He didn’t betray me. Copley had no idea that I even existed. Neither did Merrick or Keane or anyone else.”

Booker’s been putting a lot of effort into listening during these sessions as well, particularly after Doctor Harris told him that if he really wanted to make amends, he either needed to acknowledge that he fucked up or ask himself why he was there at all. But he looks a little bit defiant at Nile’s words, like he’s been wanting to bring up that point for a while.

Andy ends up backing him up too. “That’s true, actually. He wanted us to go after Copley on the train, not get Nile first. He was always trying to keep her out of it. That’s something at least.”

* * *

“Why Nicky and Joe?” asks Doctor Harris a couple months in.

“Hmm?”

“I understand your motivations and while I do not condone taking away Andy’s agency and consent in the matter, she has expressed her understanding. Not agreement, but understanding that you believed the two of you to be of a similar mind when it comes to your outlook on life.” Doctor Harris is never glib, but there have only been a handful of moments when she is very solemn in her approach. “But why include Nicky and Joe? They were happy in their life with no desire to end it. So why include them? Why sentence them to the same fate?”

Nile shivers at the chill that fills the room with her words. It’s possibly the biggest elephant in the room and has been for a while. 

“Copley knew about all four of us from a mission several years ago,” says Booker. “I could hide Nile because he didn’t know about her. All of the rest of us were in his research.”

“That is true,” offers Andy.

Doctor Harris doesn’t look like she’s accepting one word of that. 

“What does a wall of conspiracy theories and one black-ops mission tell him?” snaps Joe. “That he’s got an active imagination? You set us up. You made sure he had proof and then you told them where our safe house was.”

So clearly, the doc’s not the only who thinks Booker’s full of shit.

“And when they brought you in, you were upset about Andy. Not us. Did you even care what we wanted?” Nicky sounds just as angry as Joe does.

“I didn’t...I didn’t think there was a choice. They kept insisting it was all or nothing,” protests Booker. 

“Bullshit! There’s always a choice.” Even Nicky looks a little surprised at the unadulterated anger in his voice. 

Nile feels like she has the same expression Doctor Harris does. One that says this fight has been building for a while. That says it’s not going to be over anytime soon. 

It’s not. Most of the session is spent at raised volume, no one holding back. They split off afterward, with Nicky and Joe declaring they need some time alone and will get a hotel. Andy’s withdrawn. Nile walks a little behind Booker and snaps “no!” at him every time he starts to enter a bar. 

She’s not sure if there will be a family dinner this weekend if everyone is too angry, but they all show up and eat in stony silence. 

The silence only lifts when they’re back in Harris’s office, going at each other again. 

“You’re such a selfish asshole, Booker! Always thinking about you!”

“One reason. Just give us one halfway mediocre reason for why you had to betray all of us.”

“I don’t know!” screams Booker finally. “I don’t know. I fucked up okay?! I fucked up and I was jealous and miserable and I just want it all to be over and I didn’t think. I’m sorry. Nicky, I’m sorry and I’m sorry Joe and I’m sorry Andy. I fucked up and I know you’ll never actually forgive me, but I’m sorry. I don’t know how to give you the answers you want!”

Both Nicky and Joe deflate almost instantly. “Okay,” says Joe.

“Okay?” asks Doctor Harris.

“You never apologized,” says Joe. “All this time, all the excuses, and you never said you regretted it.”

“I regret what I did to each of you every single day,” says Booker, all of his defense mechanisms gone in an instant. “I’ll always regret that.”

It’s not a fix, but it’s a week that lets them finally start to turn a corner.

* * *

The same week, Harris tells Booker that he should come to private sessions, out of earshot of the others.

“Really Doc?” he asks.

“You said you want it to be over,” she says, not unkindly. “Present tense. So yes, I think discussing your feelings on a more personal level would be beneficial.”

“I might be a lost cause.”

She pauses for a long moment. “Your family is still here. They seem to think you can be found, even if you’ve been lost for a long time. But you have to be willing to do the work too.”

Booker breathes unsteadily. “Okay.”

* * *

They work through a lot over the six months that they’re in Agadir. In many ways, it helps. In other ways, the four older immortals seem to realize they’d been steadily building up layers of issues, letting things go unsaid and emotions run unchecked. 

But this time, when they sit in the kitchen around cups of coffee or tea--no whiskey in Booker’s which is at least one visible improvement--on the second to last night in this home, they all decide their next steps together. 

Booker will stay. He has more to work on with Doctor Harris and she’s agreed to stay another six months, then he’ll do video sessions with her to stay up to date. He’s going to take on small missions. Side jobs that have a low-risk factor but still allow him to do a little good in the world. 

Despite all that they’ve worked through, his betrayal still cuts deeply, and the others admit they aren’t ready to trust him beside them in the field. 

It’s clear they wish it was different, but it’s not. In the end, Nile’s the one who struggles the most to understand this one, but it’s not her fight and she acquiesces. 

There’s hope though. 

This banishment doesn’t come with the punishment of a century in solitude. They make plans. 

They all come together at each solstice and each equinox. Spend a week in each other’s company. They talk and they fight and eat and laugh and the wounds heal a little more each time. 

Once a year, Booker goes on a small mission, much like his usual ones with lower risk, but that requires all of them. In the end, they sit down and assess how they feel. Whether they could trust him or spent too much of it second-guessing. 

Andy and Nile visit him in turn, whenever they can spare the time.

Two years in, Joe calls Booker, tells him to turn on the World Cup so they can watch it together, even while apart.

Booker bursts into tears then spends the next three days screaming profanities while Joe disparages the French team at every turn. 

Little by little, year by year, one difficult conversation at a time, they all find a way to heal.

There has to be a cost. 

That’s what they told Nile.

But now, it doesn’t cost quite as much. 

* * *

Nile jolts awake from her nightmare, startling Joe at her back. This last mission was a rough one, taking an emotional toll on all of them. The silver lining though, was when Nicky muttered that they could’ve used Booker on this one and Nile tentatively suggested bringing him next time, the others had agreed. 

As is common, it’s an everyone in one bed kind of night. After more than a decade, it doesn’t even seem strange to her.

Andy and Nicky always take the outside, with Joe curled around Nicky, back open for Nile to lean against. Andy usually faces her, their hands clasped in reassurance. 

“You okay, Nile?” asks Nicky from the other side of Joe.

“Yeah, sorry, just a bad dream,” she answers.

“Booker said his new prescription’s been really helpful for the nightmares,” says Joe sleepily. He never wakes up quickly, another reason Nicky sleeps on the outside. “Something about a delayed release so our accelerated healing isn’t fast enough to counteract it.”

“Might be worth a try,” suggests Nicky. 

“Maybe,” says Nile. She snuggles back in to try and fall back asleep, Andy brushing a gentle hand over her forehead as she does.

It could be something to try. And she does remember Booker saying something about how much it’s helped ease the torment of Quynh’s screams.

Though in this case, she hadn’t dreamed about Quynh at all. It was just a forgettable nightmare. Nile’s almost asleep again when she realizes. She hasn’t dreamed about Quynh in months. For years it’s been several times a week, to the point where the others ended up buying bigger beds, expecting her to join someone after each nightmare, until the comfort of her family could soothe her soul to sleep again. But now...Nile can’t remember the last time she dreamed of Quynh.

There’s only one way for her to stop dreaming of Quynh, of a fellow immortal. Her mind conjures up that moment so long ago, in a rundown church basement in Goussainville. 

_ “We dream of each other. They stop when we meet.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!!!
> 
> To reiterate the beginning notes, if you had reservations but stuck it out and anything felt off to you, or like I put too much fault on the wrong person, please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments.  
> For those who may be confused on what constructive looks like, "why does everyone hate Booker?!" or "Joe (or Nicky) shouldn't forgive anything!" is not constructive. That is a personal preference for your character and if you need a story from that perspective, they are out there.  
> Constructive is telling me where I left something unclear. Or illuminating a situation that I, as a white woman, might have misconstrued and made to come off as racist. It's not my intent, but it doesn't mean I can't fuck up. If I did that, again, please correct. 
> 
> In terms of the story, I've got most of the next chapter/installment outlined. (I'm sure you can guess a major theme in it) and by the end of it, we're going to be pretty well past the issues dealt here. It's why I time-jumped them by a decade, so it could feel like there should be some healing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how Nile thinks the best way to introduce herself to Copley is by shooting herself in the foot? Warning for Nile pulling shit like that again on a more intense level.  
> I like physical affection in found families. I know where a lot of that need stems from (so does my therapist lol) and I tend to put it into fics. That said, while this story is not overwhelmingly romantic, I do want to clarify that this is not a story that puts Booker and Nile together. But I do show them as being close and comfortable with each other and I just didn’t want anyone to read it and have concerns that this would go that way.  
> Lastly, while I don’t want to go too detailed (so as not to spoil the story), Quynh will not be a villain. I know she has every right to be, but it just doesn’t feel right to me.

Nile leaves with the excuse that she needs to talk to Booker, that her nightmares are family-related and it’s just easier to talk to someone who gets that.

Nicky gives her a look that says he knows she’s lying, that she’s making an excuse, but he offers to drive her to the train station, says he wants to stop by the store on his way back anyway. 

“Why the lies, Nile?” he asks after several minutes of silence.

“I can’t tell you…”

“Nile,” he says, the push in his tone reminding her that they don’t do lies these days. The truth may be harsh, but the truth can be faced. Lies just create insidious little walls between everyone. 

“Yet,” she finishes. “I can’t tell you yet, Nicky.”

“But you think Booker can help?”

“I don’t know. But he’s the best chance I have.” There’s just no way the others can help her figure this out. They lived with Quynh, worked with her, and most importantly, they don’t dream about her.

Nicky frowns. “That’s a dangerous path to take.”

“That’s unfair. We’ve made so much progress with Booker,” says Nile.

“I mean it’s a dangerous path with Booker, to ask him to keep secrets from the rest of us,” explains Nicky. “I’m not saying we have to tell each other everything--believe me, there are some things that can definitely stay between you and Andy--”

“Right back at you and Joe,” mutters Nile.

“But be careful.”

“Nicky, I promise, if I could go to one of you I would. And I swear to you, I will tell you everything within a week. No matter what answers I do or don’t have.” Nile means it. She will say something.

“And I can’t help you at all in the meantime?”

Nile sighs heavily. “There are only two possibilities that I can think of that explain what’s going on here. One is devastating but there’s a way forward out of it. The other…” Her voice trails off, just thinking about the other option. Nicky’s quiet, waiting for her to continue. “The other option could destroy us.”

* * *

She probably should have called Booker before she came over, considering he goes into full panic mode when she lets herself into the apartment. 

To be fair, she has a key and she probably spends a quarter of her free time wherever he is. Sometimes with Andy, sometimes without, so it’s not the craziest thing to come for a visit. But she does usually call or text and make sure he’s not on a mission of his own. 

The last ten years have been a continuous journey out of the clusterfuck that was Merrick and that whole situation. They feel almost clear of it these days. 

Missions have been pretty smooth when Booker’s on them. It’ll probably still be a while before they trust him to run the surveillance side or book any jobs, but then again, these days Copley does that and they check his work. It works pretty well to not put that responsibility on any of them. Even now, he’s getting older and Nile knows they’re going to have to end up finding his replacement or learn how to do his job before the next decade finishes.

Though apparently there’s some dude out of Portland that might help when the time comes. 

The biggest issue for years was with Joe and Nicky, a fact that they hated. If one of them spent time with Booker--he and Nicky have a thing about discussing philosophy, while Joe’s maintained their bonding over football--it was fine. After the first few years, it was easy even. There were still hiccups here and there, reasons to call Doctor Harris and have some tough group sessions, but better. 

If Joe and Nicky and Booker were all in the same room though, then it was worse. Then those feelings of betrayal, those feelings of helplessness at protecting the man they loved, and knowing it was because of their best friend, those feelings reared back up. 

But in the last year or so, even those feelings seemed to have been worked through. Nile privately thought that at this point, they were mostly just waiting for a catalyst, something to propel the team forward. That no one really knew how to just say ‘can we have the team back’. 

Well. Whatever’s going on with her head might just be that catalyst.

* * *

“Hey Book,” she says, after helping scrub the floor after he slammed a wine bottle into her head, having thought she was an assailant. 

“I see you still know how to make an entrance,” he remarks wryly.

Nile snickers. “I’ll stop making an entrance when Andy stops flourishing the finish with her ax.”

Booker’s face says he knows that it’ll never happen and that he’s silently mourning all the wine he’ll lose over the next several thousand years.

She’ll get him a bat for Christmas.

“So what brings you to my place?” he asks. “Finally get some downtime?”

“A little,” she replies. “Listen, Booker, there’s no easy way to ask this, but when was the last time you dreamed about Quynh?”

“About five weeks ago,” he answers, a puzzled frown on his face. “I’m on new sleep medication, it’s really been helping.”

“Was there anything weird about the last ones?”

Booker shakes his head. “Drowning and screaming, same as always. Nile, what’s going on?”

“I need you to not take your pills tonight,” says Nile. “Also to not get mad when I get blood on your floor.”

“Blood on the floor? Nile, why would there be bloo…”

He’s cut off when Nile pulls her gun out of her waist and shoots herself in the head. When she wakes up a few seconds later, Booker’s yelling at her. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, NILE?!”

At least he’s also already wet a few cloths and is helping mop up the blood from her face and neck. 

“Nile. I realize that you continue to have a unique approach to things, but it is one thing to drop in unannounced for a visit, another to literally shoot yourself in the head without warning! Now, what is going on?”

“The dreams of each other are only ever triggered when someone dies, remember? That’s why it took so long for the others to find each other before. Joe and Nicky died a shit-ton and then fell in love and stopped dying for years before meeting up with Quynh and Andy,” explains Nile. “You were only easier because you had on a uniform that identified you as one of Napoleon’s soldiers and everyone knew y’all were stranded in Russia.”

“Yes, I’m aware of all that.”

“So, if I need you to not take your pills so you can dream about Quynh tonight, one of us also has to die so those dreams get triggered,” she continues.

“Nile,” says Booker, his voice dangerously calm. “What will a new dream tell you that hasn’t been clear in the last 200 plus years? Why is it so important that I dream about Quynh?”

“Because I don’t dream about her,” answers Nile. She manages to keep her voice on an even keel as well, but she knows her eyes betray her true emotions.

“Like recently? Because of better medication?” Booker sounds like he doesn’t believe his own questions, he’s just asking them because the alternative is just...a lot.

Nile shakes her head. “I haven’t dreamed of her in months, though I only just realized it.” She’s quiet for a long moment, letting Booker continue to process. “Book, you and I both know there are only two reasons to stop dreaming of another immortal.”

He nods and exhales slowly. “I do. Which is why we need to see if I still dream of Quynh. Because either her immortality ended and she’s dead once and for all…” His voice trails off and he sinks to the floor, head in his hands, not even sure how to say the alternative.

Nile finishes the thought for him. “Or Quynh’s alive, free, and somehow we’ve met.”

* * *

For the rest of the evening, they catch up on other parts of life, rather than on this great looming cloud.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what comes next?” asks Booker, once they’ve gotten all of the blood cleaned off the floor and Nile’s clothes are tossed in the laundry.

They all have spare clothes wherever Booker stays--another reason Nile thinks everyone is just waiting for something to throw them back together--so she leans back against one end of the couch, and rests her legs on Booker’s lap, a glass of wine in her hand. 

“Not yet,” she says, shaking her head for emphasis. “I need to know more first. Right now, there’s just still too many what-ifs. Besides, you were just in Mauritius, right? Tell me all about it. I can’t believe I haven’t had the chance to visit it yet.”

Booker gives her the same look the others often give her, the one that says it’s hilarious that she acts like its a tragedy if she hasn’t been somewhere, despite the fact that she’s only 37. Most of them barely saw anything more of the world in that first decade of immortality. 

She only ever told Joe the reason why. For all that Nile loves being able to help others and see the world and experience so many amazing things, her favorite moments are when they have to chill while Copley does his thing. Not the laying low in a safe house day. But the ones where everything is fine, he’s just making sure all the evidence is cleaned up and they’re in between missions. It feels like home in a way few things have since she first left with the Marines after school.

And the way they all talk, it’ll be a century or so of this movement and non-stop missions, but then it’ll be time to settle down. Nile just wants to see as much of the world as possible before then, so she can appreciate the downtime years.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” answers Booker. “I managed a couple of days of hiking pre-mission, you’d really appreciate it. Lots of waterfalls to throw yourself off of.”

Nile rolls her eyes. “You jump out of a window one time…”

Booker snorts. “One time? You forget, Andy talks.”

Nile kicks him. “Okay, okay, so I might have the tiniest bit of a daredevil streak.” You only live forever.

“I think I ate rougaille at least once every day I was there,” says Booker with a fond sigh.

“Rougaille?” she asks.

“Trust me. Or even better, trust Nicky,” replies Booker. “Tell him I had one of the best shrimp rougaille in my life and I promise, the man will weep.”

“Huh. Now that’s something I need to see,” laughs Nile.

They continue with the visit until both catch each other yawning and agree to call it a night, sobering the mood as they refocus on the reason for Nile’s visit. Nile lets Booker lean in close as they fall asleep, knowing just how much she’s asking of him. The nightmares take a lot out of both of them and this one has a lot more pressure. 

* * *

Nile expects a restless sleep, given all that’s on her mind, but her body seems to decide otherwise because she’s startled awake when Booker starts thrashing. It takes her a few minutes to wake him up and the look on his face is one of unrelenting anguish when he does. 

“Book...I’m so sorry,” she starts.

He shakes his head at her and takes in several shuddering breaths. “No, no, Nile, don’t be. Just..can you get me some water?”

She returns a couple minutes later and settles back on the bed. “Is she...Is Quynh dead? Did you dream about her?”

“I had the dream.” Booker stops her followup questions with a raised hand. “It seemed normal initially, exactly what I’ve been used to for centuries and usually, I’m just trying to wake up and get out of it. But this time I tried to pay attention.” He takes a few more sips of water. “I don’t fully know how to explain it, Nile. The drowning was still there, but it was like watching a projection of a dream. I could see Quynh moving behind the projection, could see something else was there, but the water kept sweeping over me. I couldn’t get closer.”

Nile sucks in a breath and waits for him to continue. 

“It wasn’t real, Nile. The visions of Quynh drowning are real but they aren’t now, they aren’t current. It felt like she was pushing those thoughts to the front of her mind, trying to make sure that’s all I saw, and as long as I was just trying to wake up, I’d never notice anything else,” says Booker.

“So what does this mean?” asks Nile.

Booker runs his hands through his hair and sighs heavily. “It means Quynh’s alive. It means Quynh’s free.”

Nile stares at Booker for a long moment. “She’s free and I don’t dream about her. Which means somehow I’ve met her. How could I have ever missed that?”

“You don’t have to speak to someone to have met them. She could have brushed past you in a crowd,” answers Booker.

“That still means she sought me out. That she knows how to find us.” Nile takes a beat to process that. “She knows how and she didn’t find Andy.”

Nile and Booker sit in silence. Finally, Booker breaks it. 

“Well fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you notice, I left this as an open story now because I obviously have more to say. At least several more chapters in my head right now. Chapter 4 will (I swear it WILL) be up this weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I said where they all were but for the purposes of quick transport, I’ve decided that the team is in Brussels and Booker is in Köln. If I contradict that somewhere and I missed it, feel free to point it out so I can fix it.

“Okay, we can figure this out. It’s going to be okay. So Quynh’s alive. And knows how to find us. And hasn’t let Andy know. This is fine.”

“Nile!”

“What?!”

“You’ve been pacing and freaking out for an hour and you have to stop,” says Booker. 

Nile stops. “Book, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to tell them,” he answers. “Immediately. I already booked tickets back to Brussels, that gives us a solid two hours and change to figure out how. Ni, we can’t sit on this. You promised Nicky and I promised all of you. Fuck, we promised each other. No more secrets. We will deal with this together. As a family. Now get dressed and let’s go.”

Nile nods and goes. Right. She knew this was the right approach. It’s just so huge. Somehow, despite all the evidence to the contrary, some part of her was convinced she was crazy, that this wasn’t actually happening. But it is and while most of her is worried, there’s a big part of her that is intensely hopeful for Andy and a tiny, ugly little voice that is so very angry at everything that’s about to change.

She has to borrow a clean shirt--probably should have thought about that before she decided shooting herself in the head was the best way to trigger immortal dream links--but she’s ready to leave within five minutes. They can get breakfast at the station. The Marines taught her to be ready to move out at a moment’s notice, being immortal has honed that into an art form.

Once on the train, with some actual coffee in her system and a horribly stale excuse for a pastry, she feels a little bit calmer. 

“I’ll text Nicky to pick us up.”

Booker shakes his head. “Tell Joe.”

“Are you sure?” Nile is surprised. Things are much better but Joe and Booker still have a tendency to set each other off at times. She would think he’d want Nicky’s calmer presence and says as much.

“You think Nicky’s the calming presence?” Booker laughs, not unkindly. “Sometimes it seems like you’ve been one of us for ages and then I remember it’s just been a very weird decade and there’s so much to still learn about each other.”

Nile feels like she could take offense to that, but that he doesn’t mean it in a cruel way, so she moves past it. “So you’re telling me that Yusuf “wears his heart on his sleeve” Al-Kaysani is the one less likely to emotionally react?”

Booker shakes his head. “Oh no, Joe will have a lot to say. So much. But Joe...Joe processes things quickly and reacts quickly. Set the whole thing with me aside. Over the years, things happen. Joe reacts in a moment and then moves on to the next moment, only carrying over what he needs to. Honestly it’s one of the big reasons he and I fight so vocally, because we both do the same.”

“That’s impressively introspective.”

“The beauty of a decade of ongoing therapy,” says Booker. “You learn to look honestly at your life and your actions. Anyway, Nicky is like Andy. They compartmentalize, tuck an issue away until they’re ready to deal with it and as we’ve seen, that can let things fester.”

Nile frowns. “Does it really matter? It’s only like 20 minutes to the house.”

“First, we all know how to read each other fairly well. Whoever is there will know something’s wrong. More than they already suspect considering you left to come see me with no warning,” he answers. “Second, and more important, if it’s Joe, I know how he’ll approach this. It will be a reaction of surprise, a lot of swearing in multiple languages, and then he will acknowledge that it is not a problem he can fix in this moment, center himself, and be there for Nicky. And if Joe is there for Nicky, Nicky can be there for Andy, just like the rest of us.”

“Okay, then I’ll text Joe. But um, Nicky expected to pick me up so what should I say about that?”

Booker shrugs. “The truth.”

Nile raises an eyebrow in question.

“A relative version of it,” he amends. “Just say it needs to be Joe and that you’ll explain once you’re home.”

“And that will be enough?”

“Nicky respects you, he’s not going to doubt you know your own mind. Plus if for some reason we tried to hide it, Joe would tell him anyway.”

Nile sends the text, then leans against the window and tries to fall back asleep for an hour.

* * *

When they arrive, they walk a couple streets over and direct Joe where to pick them up. Not that he can’t swing around with the rest of the taxis, but Brussels isn’t the best place for him to linger around a train station. Yet another reason Nile will be glad to be done with this round of European missions. 

Joe pulls the car up and his face does a double-take at Booker.

Booker turns a wry look on Nile. “I take it you didn’t tell them I was coming back with you?”

“They were already worried,” answers Nile. “I didn’t see the point in pushing that to a full on panic.”

Joe hugs both of them, before asking Nile what’s going on in a very concerned tone.

“Probably best if you let me drive, Joe,” says Booker. “Still the house out in Kapelleveld, no?”

“Yeah,” he answers, a puzzled look between both of them. “Why am I letting you drive? Nile, what is going on?”

She motions for him to get in the backseat with her, and with a continued look of confusion, Joe does, passing Booker the keys as he gets in. Nile takes a breath and rips the bandage off, so to speak, since time is limited and she’s not sure how to broach the subject delicately anyway. “Quynh’s alive, Joe.”

“I know,” says Joe. “Are the nightmares getting worse? Is this why you went to Booker? We can be more careful, try not to trigger them so often. For both of you,” he adds, wanting to make it clear that he’s not trying to spare Nile pain while leaving Booker in his.

Nile shakes her head and takes Joe’s hands in hers, holding on tight. Booker’s eyes in the rearview mirror are tight with worry and tears. “No, not alive under the sea. Quynh is free. And she’s alive.”

Joe pales, a stricken gasp escaping his lips, and his grip tightens on her hands. “Nile...how do you? How can you know? Are you sure?” His grip turns viselike. “Nile, you have to be sure.”

So Nile explains. About the lack of dreams and the way she didn’t realize for so long, not after being used to a new normal. About why she went to Booker and what they learned last night. She explains everything they know and everything they’ve assumed. When she finishes, the only sign that Joe’s heard anything is the way he’s holding on to her. It’s entirely possible she’s going to have to wait a few seconds for a fracture to heal when he finally let's go.

“Shit,” swears Joe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh this is...this is…” He veers off into a mix of prayers and profanities, mixing a handful of languages, all while tears stream from his eyes. 

Nile starts to panic, not sure what to do. 

“Give him a minute,” says Booker. “Joe,” he continues. “We need your help to tell Nicky and Andy.”

And as Nile watches, Joe releases her hands and wipes the tears from his eyes. He’s still clearly shaken, but he takes several steadying breaths as they get closer to the house. “Of course. The first step is getting all of us on the same page. Then we will discuss what to do next.”

* * *

The Brussels house is smaller than most, fairly nondescript in a suburban neighborhood. It’s also one of the newer ones, comparatively. Nile personally isn’t a fan and she can tell the others agree. They’re only here because it was the most convenient spot to retreat too. 

Over the years, Nile’s learned that wealth is not a thing any of them really wish to accumulate. There are stashes of valuables in random spots, things that can be liquidated if need be, but they try to make a habit of mixing in enough jobs that come with a fee, in order to make it easy to help those who need it the rest of the time. 

The only thing that truly speaks to wealth is the number of homes they own across the world. Some--like the old church in Goussaineville--aren’t really owned. Each of those has a couple of different exits, is almost always out in the country, and the supplies are nothing more than a cupboard of non-perishables, some back-up weapons, and a change of clothes. Andy had told her that whenever they’re in an area, someone will refresh the supplies and do just enough cleaning to keep pests away. If they need these spaces, once they’re in, they can’t leave until an all-clear is declared. 

There are a couple of dozen homes that are the favorites across the globe. These are the ones that keep a personal touch, the places they get to  _ live _ . Nile’s told that they just sell them back and forth to each other when they need to, or “inherit” them from a grandparent. It’ll be one of these that they settle down at for a few years at a time when they need a break or need to let their work fade from memory. 

The ones no one likes, “necessity accommodations” is what Nicky calls them, are the places like the house here in Brussels. Ugly little things half the time meant only to be used for ease and in-between jobs. 

Andy uses each location as training for Nile, making her find all the escape routes, both visible and hidden. Nile’s favorite escape routes are the ones that have secret doors--and yes, she’s definitely imagined opening the door to Narnia--and it’s one of the only redeeming factors about this house in her personal opinion. That one of the living room bookshelves is attached to a secret door that leads to tunnels under the house, that emerge about a mile away in a graveyard crypt.

She does not, however, enjoy it when Andy makes her run the tunnel at 5 am for training.

Nicky’s standing in the doorway as they pull in, the concerned look in his eyes growing more pronounced when he sees that Booker is back too.

Joe swings out of the car first. “I’m going to Nico, you two find Andy and we’ll meet in the living room.”

Nile nods in response.

She watches for a minute as Joe smiles at Nicky, touched as always by their unshakeable love, even when everything else is unsteady.

“Tell me you didn’t stand here watching the street the entire time I was gone,” says Joe, teasing Nicky. He leans in for a kiss and is well-rewarded for his efforts. Nicky uses the kiss to move them both inside, closing the door behind them. 

Nicky’s tone is worried as ever, which is not unexpected, since he’s been on edge since he took Nile to the train station yesterday morning. “What new trouble do we have?”

“You always assume it’s trouble. It doesn’t have to be.”

Nicky gives him a look.

“Okay, yes, it’s...well, not necessarily trouble, but it is complicated,” replies Joe.

“Will it be okay eventually?” asks Nicky.

“No. And yes.” Joe kisses Nicky again, a sweet, lingering kiss to remind Nicky that he’s the most precious thing in the world to Joe. “Just remember to keep breathing my love.”

* * *

Nile waits as everyone sits down. Booker’s near Andy, who looks delighted to have him here, and concerned as to the why. Nicky’s tension is obvious and Joe’s steady hand on his knee seems to be the only thing keeping him from vibrating out of his skin. 

She takes a deep breath. Then another. How the fuck is she supposed to do this? How is she supposed to tell Andy that the love of her life is alive and free and no longer drowning at the bottom of the ocean? That said love has been free and hasn’t come back to her? And then there are Nile’s own conflicting feelings. The ones that wish she could have had one more night with this secret, one night to keep Andy to herself.

But Andy would never forgive her for such a secret, nor would Nile forgive herself.

“Oh gosh,” says Nile finally. “I don’t even know how to say this.”

“I can if you need me to,” offers Booker.

Nile shakes her head. “No, I can do it. I can…”

“Sometimes,” suggests Nicky, “when I have a difficult conversation ahead of me, I find it can be helpful to reveal the core of the issue first, then explain the rest.”

“I don’t know if this is a rip the bandage off situation,” says Joe. And he’s right. It was one thing to tell Joe abruptly, but for all his love for Quynh--and there is so much, her loss lingers with Nicky and Andy, touching so many areas of their lives. 

Nicky squeezes Joe’s hand. “Perhaps not a tear, but a gentle exposure of the wound can start the conversation. The rest of the information can remove the rest, allowing for healing. To continue with the metaphor, insufficient as it maybe.”

“Thank you, Nicky,” says Nile, because that does actually help. 

“I believe…” she begins and is promptly cut off.

All five of their phones blast with the preprogrammed ringtone that Copley insists on putting into every phone, the one that signals that wherever they are, they need to get the fuck out now. Not a ten-minute warning, not grab the go bag, but literally run right now. 

At the same time, the doorway to the underground passage opens to reveal Quynh. 

“This way!” she hisses. “They can’t know you got out, we need the head-start.”

Every single one of them stares, frozen. It is one thing to know the woman is alive and entirely different to have her standing in front of you, thinks Nile. Or, she considers with a side-glance at Nicky and Andy, possibly the second most shocking moment of your life, the first of course waking up after you should be dead.

“Quynh?” breathes Andy, in one of the most devastating tones Nile has ever heard. She hasn’t moved from her spot on the couch. 

Surrounding their frozen tableau are the sounds of Copley’s alarm call still blaring.

Quynh steps into the light and crosses to Andy, taking her head in her hands, and kissing her in a single fluid movement. “Andromache,” she says in a voice that rings with such authority that Nile can feel herself standing straighter. “Run!”

Quynh pulls Andy up and shoves her at the open doorway, sparing one glance at the others. “We have less than three minutes before the missile hits, now move!”

They move, following Quynh down the stairs, racing along the tunnel as fast as possible. They’re a little more than halfway when the sound of a deafening explosion echoes through the tunnel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did absolutely no research about a missile’s radius, so just roll with it.  
> Also *insert evil laugh here*. On the positive side ⅔ of the next chapter is already done, so you won’t have to wait too long for the update.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I loved being able to do a bit of a cliffhanger, but there won’t be more of those. It was a perfect moment for one, but overall, I’m writing this as a story of building a found family, and a bunch of suspenseful moments didn’t quite fit. I just knew that to truly put family together, we have to get Quynh back. And that deserves a touch of suspense.
> 
> Oh, also, I keep forgetting to explain Dr. Harris. There’s no mystery to her. There’s an actress named Rachael Harris who plays a lot of roles as a woman who does not suffer bullshit. So many of her characters are like get your shit together and don’t lie to me and pretend you’re a functioning human being. And I love her. Also, she plays the psychiatrist to Lucifer in the show Lucifer. So when I went to add a therapist, I thought I’d go a little tongue-in-cheek and pick a fictional character that might be familiar with non-mortals. But I’m not in anyway crossing over with Lucifer, so I went with the actress’s name instead of her character name. She’s not some sort of mysterious dark character. She’s here for therapy, she just keeps a roster of clients who aren’t always the most normal.

The explosion hits.

“What the fuck?!” yells Nile.

“Shit,” says Booker.

Nicky looks at Joe.

Joe looks at Nicky.

“Run!” commands Quynh.

They run.

Down the tunnel as fast as they can, and considering they all train enough to stay in fighting shape, that’s fast. Quynh makes them pause for a split second in the crypt as she checks the cemetery, hushing them quickly so there’s no sound. And while every single one of them has a thousand questions, they’re warriors. They know when to get through the mission, in whatever form it takes, and worry about the questions later. 

Plus Nile can tell that all of them are worried about Andy and how she’s taking this and if they can’t talk to her, they won’t be disrespectful enough to talk about her to each other.

Quynh piles them into a van parked next to the crypt, shoves them all in the back with a cryptic “stay hidden, I’ll get you out” and peels out like there’s another missile headed for the graveyard.

Nile doesn’t hear any more explosions, but it’s not like they were expecting the first one. 

They’re on the road for at least an hour before they stop. All of them wait in silence for Quynh to open the door--Nile and Joe hold Andy and Nicky’s hands respectively, not caring about the bone-breaking grip for a moment--and she does, just barely. She tosses a flip-phone at Andy. “One-time use burner. Call your contact, tell him you got out and you’ll call when it’s safe. Make sure he knows not to look for you until you contact again.”

Andy’s frozen, staring at Quynh, who’s eyes soften just barely as she watches her. 

“Andy?” questions Nile.

Booker picks up the phone and makes the call, listening to Copley’s words and looking increasingly concerned about what he’s hearing. When he tosses the phone back to Quynh however, his gaze towards her is slightly more trusting. Nile takes it as a promising sign. 

Once the call is done, Quynh takes the phone and smashes it under her heel. She drives again, what feels like just a few blocks, before ushering them out of this van and into another. 

They do this twice more over the next half hour’s worth of driving. 

Finally, she stops and parks again, swinging open the van doors. “Let’s go,” she says, that same commanding tone in her voice. “No cameras here, but let’s not tempt fate any further.”

Nile tugs Andy along with her and they follow Quynh through a side door in the parking garage and across a small alleyway to what looks like a storage door. 

“Rotterdam,” Nicky tells her as a quiet aside while they’re moving through the door. There’s not much to see, but the few distinguishing markers must be enough for Nicky to recognize the city.

Once in, Quynh leads them up several flights of stairs before she opens the door to an apartment, locks it in triplicate behind them, and motions for everyone to find a seat.

* * *

It’s hard to know where to start with their questions and reactions. So for a good ten minutes, they all sit frozen in silence, crammed on the couch in this strange apartment. 

Booker and Nile keep Andy wedged between them. Joe’s mostly on Nicky’s lap since even four adults is a tight fit, but both of them have a hand touching Andy. Nile can feel Joe’s arm against her shoulders and Nicky’s brushes against her back when he moves. 

It’s Nicky who finally starts the conversation and not in the direction Nile expects. “Nile, you and Booker needed to tell us something just before all of this,” he says, waving his free hand in a motion meant to encompass the entirety of the last couple hours. “It seemed pretty important, so why don’t we start with that, and give ourselves time to wrap our heads around Quynh’s return.” His voice breaks off at the end.

“Um, Quynh was what we wanted to talk about,” says Nile.

“You knew?” asks Andy. She sounds utterly betrayed and Nile hates that so much. 

“No,” she says and hurries to explain the whole dream situation and the way she expected this evening to be spent trying to deal with the  _ idea _ that Quynh was free, not the reality sitting in front of them. 

“You were on the cusp of telling them about me?” asks Quynh, in Italian rather than English. “Just as I showed up?”

Nile nods. 

“Damn,” smirks Quynh, continuing to use Italian, looking distinctly pleased with herself. “I can still make an entrance.”

Joe mutters something unseemly under his breath. The hint of a smile makes it across Nicky’s lips. Nile thinks about asking, notices Nicky’s also gone beet-red and thinks better of it. 

“So...you’re alive,” says Nile, trying to think of something to say. She switches to Italian as well, wondering suddenly if Quynh even speaks English. She might not, though Nile can’t remember off the top of her head when modern English really took hold. But come to think of it, Nile’s pretty sure that it’s been Italian this entire time. They all speak it so often, sometimes Nile doesn’t even realize she’s switched languages until she’s in public and a cashier gives her a strange look.

“I am,” Quynh says, nodding in emphasis.

“How long?” whispers Andy hoarsely. 

Quynh’s gaze softens. “Just over three years,” she answers.

“Three...three years?”

Nile glances at the others, all of whom look as dumbfounded as she feels. Months she understood, but three years of freedom and no word? Why?

“Why wouldn’t you tell us you were alive for three years?” asks Joe. He’s moved his hands from Andy and is holding Nicky tightly. Nicky for his part, is clinging to Joe so tight his knuckles are white. “Why wouldn’t you tell us you were safe?”

There’s a gentleness in Quynh’s tone every time she speaks that strikes Nile as an odd juxtaposition to the emotional temper of the room. “I am alive, Yusuf,” says Quynh firmly. And right, she would still be used to calling the others by their original names. 

Quynh continues. “I am not safe.”

“But you’re free,” protests Joe.

“I am not safe for you,” emphasizes Quynh. “But fate has been a cruel master many times before and played its cards to bring me back to you sooner than I would have preferred.”

Andy’s eyes are filled with tears. “You didn’t want to come back to me?” she asks, her voice shaking in a way it hardly ever does. 

Nile holds her tighter and brushes away tears of their own. They could live through a missile--she’s almost positive they could. Can they live through this?

Quynh moves to kneel at Andy’s feet and doesn’t hesitate when Andy flinches. “My darling Andromache,” she says. “I have always wanted to come back to you. My only hesitation was in being certain that when I did, it was to stay.”

“Will you leave again, then?” asks Nile. It hurts her to ask, hurts Andy to think about judging by the way she squeezes tighter, but she needs to prepare for what kind of damage this will do to her family. 

“No,” answers Quynh, her gaze never wavering from Andy’s face. “The timing may not be my ideal, but I will not leave you again. The devil himself could try to take me and I would spit in his face and return to you. I promise you this.” There’s a current of steel in her voice and a sense of something other in the air. 

It’s absolutely terrifying. Nile also knows in her heart, somehow, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that Quynh speaks the truth. Nothing will tear her from Andy’s side ever again.

“Now,” continues Quynh, rising to her feet. “I will make tea. Nicolo, come and help me, I assume you haven’t forgotten this. Then we will discuss these people who are after you, get some sleep, and discuss me in the morning.”

* * *

Once settled with tea and some simple food, Quynh takes up the conversation. “Before we talk more about me--I promise, Andromache, I will explain everything--we need to address the situation at hand. The people who targeted you and the reason I revealed myself ahead of schedule.”

“My brief conversation with Copley didn’t give us much,” starts Booker. “Whoever’s after us knows what we are, knows about the immortality. He suspects they got their intel from Merrick, but he’s still trying to track down who it is.” Booker pauses. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I…”

Joe cuts him off. “Book, we forgave you years ago. None of us are going back on that now. Though I do reserve the right to use it to make you do all the shittiest jobs on a mission for at least the rest of the original 100-year sentence.”

Booker’s smile is hesitant, but there. “That seems more than fair.”

“How sure is Copley about it being from Merrick?” asks Nicky.

“Agreed,” says Nile. “We put a lot of effort into being thorough in erasing every possible piece of data that he had.”

Quynh sets her cup down on the table abruptly. “I appear to have caused some confusion. There is no need to posit theories. And Booker, yes, this is the name you prefer? Or should I be addressing you in another manner as we have only just met?”

“Booker’s fine,” he answers.

Nile just nods when Quynh looks to her as though to repeat the question. “I go by Nile.”

“Good then. Booker, you can put your mind at ease,” says Quynh. “I’m familiar with that particular mission as you might expect. It was after all, the first one that added Nile to my own dreams. Everything they had was destroyed.”

“There’s always a chance we missed something,” interjects Nile.

“I don’t leave things to chance,” returns Quynh.

Joe smirks from his spot where he’s curled around Nicky and Nile’s reminded that they spent several centuries with Quynh before she was taken and no what sort of person she is--or used to be--much better than she.

“That’s not as good as it sounds,” says Andy. Her tone is sure but quiet and she isn’t doing much more than occasionally looking at Quynh. “Merrick and his people were the only ones that knew about us. As far as we know at least. If someone else knows, we’ll have our work cut out for us figuring out who.”

Quynh frowns. “I know exactly who is after you.”

Five surprised faces turn to her. “You do?” asks Nicky, first to find his voice. 

The answer is the last thing they expect and yet, as soon as Quynh says it, the only thing Nile can think is that she’s surprised it took this long.

“The United States,” answers Quynh. “Specifically a very dark, very secret intelligence branch.”

“Copley,” snarls Andy, the first emotion in hours finally showing up.

Nile shakes her head at the same time Quynh does. “No,” says Nile. “This isn’t Copley. This is me.”

“I am sorry, Nile,” says Quynh. 

“You?” questions Nicky. “Nile, how can it be you?”

It makes so much sense now. Nile can’t help but think that she was very blind to not consider the option sooner. She and Copley both were. The others make more sense, they’ve spent too long in a world free of technology and immersed in belief in the spiritual and the mystical. But she doesn’t come from that world and she says as much. “I’m a Marine,” she says. “A Marine who died with multiple witnesses, died brutally, and came back to life without a scratch. Everyone in that camp knew I wasn’t supposed to be alive, even if only a few knew the full details. They were going to send me to Germany for tests…” she hesitates. “They knew?”

Quynh shakes her head. “They suspected. They got close about four months ago, but I thought I managed to deal with everyone. I’ve since learned I was wrong.”

“Four months?” asks Nile. “Was that when…?”

“When I met you without  _ meeting _ you? Yes. I didn’t mean to get that close, but I had to be within a two-meter radius to override the GPS trackers.”

“So the entire United States military knows about immortals?” Nile hasn’t heard Booker sound that defeated since that day outside the bar on the Thames.

“Don’t be absurd,” returns Quynh. “No government would let information like that be common knowledge. There are four people who know about immortals beyond easily dismissed rumors. All of the proof they’ve assembled is at Pine Gap.”

“And the missile?”

“From what I’ve been able to gather, they knew that we can live through any death, even if it takes a while. The assumption was that a missile would keep you dead long enough to not only take you but transport everyone to the facility before you could pose a threat.”

“How did you learn all this?” asks Booker.

“Why bother?” asks Andy, in a tone that doesn’t sound like she cares about the answer.

“I was angry, Andromache,” answers Quynh. “But I would not see you hurt.”

Nile knows she’s not the only who’s heart is aching right now. 

Andy stands and stretches. “I need a phone.”

“Andromache…”

“Phone. Now.”

Quynh reaches into a cabinet behind her and pulls out another flip-phone. “It’s a burner,” she says. “Destroy it when you’re done.”

“Andy,” tries Nile.

Andy ignores her and shrugs off Joe’s hand at her back. “Dr. Harris?” she says after a moment. “I know our usual session isn’t until next week, but I need an emergency session. Now. You can triple-charge me.”

The answer on the other end must be affirmative because Andy steps fluidly over the coffee table and the sound of a door on the other side of the apartment slams shut a moment later. 

Nile didn’t know Andy was still keeping up with therapy--and from the looks of the others, no one did--but she’s reassured by it. 

* * *

No one feels all that comfortable still talking once Andy disappears--though they are loath to interrupt her--so the conversation stalls out. The awkwardness is broken up a bit when Booker and Nicky both reach to clear dishes at the same time. It’s late, later than it seems like it should be, thinks Nile, so maybe they should all get some sleep and figure out the rest of this in the morning. Quynh seems confident that they’re safe here for a few days at least. And while there are a lot of questions to be answered about Quynh, and a lot of problems to sort out with the news of who is after them, Nile is confident that if the others didn’t think they could trust Quynh, they would have left by now.

As they wash the few cups and plates in the kitchen, Quynh gazes wistfully down the hall. “There are two rooms and the couch available for sleeping, however you choose to split up.”

Nile and Joe exchange looks. For all that Nile still feels like she’s never done sorting out her identity as an immortal and place in this group, there are certain connections she’s made with each member of her team, little ways of silent communication. With Andy it’s the clarity of a mission, with Nicky it’s the all-encompassing burst of love they get for their family. Booker’s the one who lifts the weight when her memories of one life and expectations of this life get too heavy. 

And Joe? Joe is the one who understands the needs of their family before they’re spoken and usually, Nile does too. 

“Floor bed?” asks Nile, just to double-check.

“Floor bed,” confirms Joe. 

They work together to carry the mattresses into the living area (multiple exit areas) and move the furniture around to make a massive pallet on the floor. Nile offers a quiet explanation to Andy as she gathers up blankets, trying not to interrupt her conversation.

Once they’ve created their space and shoved the couch up against one end so the mattress can’t shuffle around, Nile crawls onto one and faceplants into a pillow. She’s more exhausted than she’d realized. 

The sounds of Nicky and Booker fade out as they finish cleaning up and turn out the light. Booker kicks his shoes off and looks over the pallet, starting to move towards an edge. “Book,” protests Nile, patting the spot next to her as she does so. He fits at her back, leaving the space on the other side of her free for Andy. Joe and Nicky stand together for a few minutes, whispering softly as they hold each other, trading the occasional kiss in between their words. 

Nile’s fading fast, but she doesn’t miss the way Quynh starts to slip away, stopping only to snag one of the pillows and blankets back. It doesn’t feel right, but then again, this is a week of nothing feeling right and Nile knows that she’s not the right person to say anything, even if she had the faintest idea what to say. 

But Nicky’s hand snakes out and pulls Quynh into his and Joe’s embrace. She trembles a bit, like she didn’t expect this and isn’t quite ready to accept. Nile knows it’s futile to resist these hugs and from the way Quynh settles, that’s been the case as long as Joe and Nicky have been together. 

The tension in Nicky’s body fades as she watches. Not completely, not without assurances from Andy, but enough to be visible, so Nile feels a flicker of hope. 

She can’t hear the conversation, but whatever they say convinces Quynh to take the couch, near enough to all of them, without taking liberties. There are some bridges that can only be crossed with Andy’s permission.

There’s only a dim light left on, the others all finding their way into the bed, curled around each other in a way that shows how much this day has knocked all of them off-kilter.

It feels like ages to Nile, but can’t be more than half an hour before Andy returns to the room. She hesitates for a while. Nile does her best not to push, though she wants to drag Andy to her side. She knows though that Nicky left space between himself and the couch that Quynh is curled up on, just in case.

It’s to her that Andy comes, silent throughout, but tucking her head into Nile’s shoulder, her breath shaky against Nile’s skin. Nile wraps her arms tightly around Andy in return, not even bothering to pretend there are words for this. She feels Booker’s hand reach around to squeeze the back of Andy’s head in reassurance as Joe says a quiet “night, boss” into the tense air. 

They sleep, out of exhaustion more than anything else, and Nile promises that tomorrow, no matter what, they will get enough answers to ease the uncertainty in Andy’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, for every answer there are more questions. But this is Nile's story first and she demanded that it take more time to deal with Quynh's return, taking out whoever is after them, and getting into the web of emotions that is/will be Nile/Andy/Quynh. Which if you were wondering, is indeed a thing we'll be getting too.
> 
> I just kind of wanted to let everyone have a moment to not really know how to react (and remember, they've all been stressed between Nile and Booker with the dream thing and the others knowing something is wrong but not what) to Quynh or all of this and then let the next part be a time of understanding and healing. Because we definitely will not be doing any sort of nonsense where Quynh is held at arm's length. This is a lot for Andy, Joe, and Nicky to take, but they always want Quynh back. There won't be any real angst past this chapter. (In terms of Quynh's return. Nile's heart might have some struggles). 
> 
> Things that might be worth a refresh. Quynh is not/will not be a villain. It's been a little over ten years since Nile became immortal.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be much longer as chapters go but I think this makes a good point for a break. And it means you get a chapter sooner. 
> 
> Lemme just tell y’all about the struggle to write a breakfast scene. Cuz see, I grew up Texan and nonaffiliated Baptist. Breakfast is a ritual. And I was like okay, this will be a good little filler to add a little to this particular canon before we learn what Quynh was up to and why she didn’t come back right away.  
> And Nile’s American, so breakfast is probably a thing for her too. (I’m not saying we aren’t all guilty of drinking coffee and a pop-tart for breakfast, but like, if you’re going to do a family meal, you’re going all out). I always hc Joe as Tunisian--big breakfast. Except Andy, who the fuck knows, and lbr, Andy does not seem like a breakfast person. I picture Booker sort of staggering to a table, dropping his face into an espresso cup while flipping everyone off, and not moving until he’s inhaled at least 3 cups of espresso.  
> Nicky might’ve had traditions, but I’m gonna bet he’s converted to Joe’s style. And Quynh’s her own mess because as old as I want her to be, the Vietnam area was still in the Neolithic phase and you know, she’s been in a coffin for 500 years so she probably doesn’t really do breakfast.  
> Now you’d think I would just go okay, so skip the scene and move on. But I was committed. So now you all have to read about my personal torment over breakfast foods. 
> 
> Oh and here’s a fun fact. The iron maiden as depicted in the movie (that Quynh is trapped in) wasn’t actually invented until 1802. The idea that it was a medieval torture device is fictionalized history. In fact, there’s next to no evidence that such a thing was ever actually used at any point. It’s also fairly unlikely that they would have been in England undergoing such trials (Germany would have fit much better), though maybe Scotland. And the time frame doesn’t work either, because they all say she’s been drowning for 500 years, which would put Quynh’s capture at best in the early 1500s. Witchcraft in England wasn’t a capital offense until 1542 under the Tudors. The main witch trials in England didn’t really get going until James I in 1604. The most famous witch trials (that Andy and Quynh would have heard about though unless they were already in England not until after they were over) in England were in 1612. Anyway, as a history major, I have OPINIONS.

Nile’s able to get some sleep right off the bat, her exhaustion catching up to her. It’s one of those things that immortal physical healing can’t quite keep up with. As she understands it, Joe and Nicky are the only two immortals who haven’t died of exhaustion at least once, and that’s attributed to their eternal companionship. There’s always been someone to watch over the other.

But exhaustion only works so long. 

After a few hours of sleep, Nile’s restless. The unsteady breathing that rotates from person to person throughout the room tells her the entire team feels it. 

By the time the watch on Booker’s wrist says 4:30 am, Nile gives up on the idea of any more sleep. It’s not even the threat of the US military that’s bothering her--well, it is a concern, but not the one eating away at her thoughts--it’s Quynh. It’s Andy. It’s the worry of what this means for all of them, but also what it means for Nile, who’s just starting to feel settled in this life. 

She carefully extracts herself from the bed, letting Andy and Booker roll in towards each other. In the kitchen, she quietly fills the electric kettle and turns it on. It won’t be loud enough to disturb anyone that isn’t already awake. 

She’s searching for cups--tea and coffee is sitting in a little basket on the counter--when she hears the sound of movement from the other room. Nile takes out another cup and taking an educated guess at who will be joining her, digs through the basket for mint tea. It won’t be Joe’s favorite, not without fresh mint leaves, but it’ll do in a pinch if combined with one of the green tea bags as well. She takes green and ginger for herself. There’s instant coffee too, which Nile leaves for when Andy wakes up. 

She grins to herself at the idea of the fit Nicky will throw when he sees it. They’ll almost all be on his side too, Nile doesn’t understand how Andy can drink the stuff. 

Joe appears as she’s switching off the kettle and pouring the water. “Bless you, Nile,” he says, eyes still blinking awake. 

Nile passes him his mug. “Think Nicky will get some sleep now?” she asks in a whisper. This is usually their modus operandi during active missions, which this feels like. Joe will sleep first, with Nicky dozing and protective. Then Joe will get up early and sketch, then pray and eventually start making breakfast when he decides the others need to wake up. 

More often than not, Nile ends up taking time for her own prayers alongside Joe, before assisting in the kitchen or going back for a nap.

Joe nods in response. “I hope an hour or two at least.”

For all that Nicky can sleep hard enough that the dead would be jealous when they’re all safe and on a break, he’s one of the antsiest sleepers on a mission. 

Even Andy, who barely sleeps at all, at least hits a rem cycle. Despite the impossibility, Nile’s firmly convinced that Nicky shuts his off until a mission is over, just so he can make sure he can wake up at a second’s notice. Whether he sleeps or just stays in bed long enough to provide the comfort of an illusion for Joe, Nile couldn’t say, but Nicky doesn’t get up until the sun starts its rise, hovering patiently while they finish their prayers.

* * *

With Nicky’s movement, the others start to rustle, and by unspoken agreement come together in the little kitchen to prepare a semblance of breakfast. 

Booker helps Quynh clean up the bedding and rearrange the furniture so they can sit again since it’s likely to be another day of laying low (and getting answers from Quynh). Andy is quiet, though she has a soft hello for Nile, resting their heads against each other for a moment. Nile is quiet back, letting Andy breathe unsteadily for a beat or two. When Andy steps back, Nicky’s waiting with coffee in hand, and she curls into his side as they sit against the table and watch Nile and Joe work.

Breakfast on the run is always a unique affair. 

Well, amends Nile to herself, breakfast is actually always a little funky. Most of the time, they actually just roll with something to drink, and everyone kind of fends for themselves.

Andy eats whatever sounds good to her, which is usually either what someone puts in front of her or the easiest thing to dig out of the fridge.

Nicky usually only ever wants espresso, though he will nibble at whatever’s on the table if it’s a family meal. Over the years, Nile learned that Booker is much the same, though he’s much grumpier until he gets that first sip of caffeine. 

In fact, Nile muses to herself, she and Joe are the only ones who really like to eat in the morning. Nicky seems to appreciate the ritual after so many centuries with Joe, but any cooking is usually done with Joe or Nile’s tastes in mind. The refrigerator and cabinets are stocked with somewhat of a hodge-podge, done like someone guessed at what people would want. There’s bread, butter, and jam, which she passes to Nicky to set out. 

Joe’s doing something with eggs and what looks like harissa. Nile passes him a couple of tomatoes that she finds in a drawer. 

Another sweep of the cabinets reveals a couple of cans of fava beans. Perfect for fool, one of her absolute favorite dishes. 

Quynh hovers on the edge as they cook and by unspoken agreement, they all work and eat in relative silence, but it’s not as uncomfortable as Nile expected.

* * *

Nile takes the new burner that Quynh offers and goes to call Copley while the others clean up. “Did you know about Quynh?” is the first thing she asks. 

“About a week ago,” is his answer.

“A week? James, what the fuck?” Did he keep this from them?

“Nile, I didn’t get a chance to ask her how she got free. She walked into my office and while I sat there motionless wondering what the actual fuck was going on, dropped an envelope on my desk and said ‘you’ve got a problem’. Then she left and I’ve been trying to figure out who we missed from Merrick’s people. That has to be who’s after you, right? Although how the fuck they got a missile is beyond me.” 

“Wait, so you think Quynh escaped within the last couple weeks?” Nile just needs to check on that really quickly.

“Yes. She didn’t?”

Nile sighs. “No, it’s been a few years apparently. Also, it’s not Merrick. He’s very dead and so is anyone associated with him.”

“Then who?” asks Copley, though his voice trails away as he processes. “Oh shit, the US government, how did I miss that?”

“We all did,” answers Nile. “Look, we’re safe and I can’t spend much longer on this phone, it’s too risky. Quynh seems to have found a lot of answers for us.”

“She didn’t give me many.”

“She doesn’t know you. I’m at least immortal, you aren’t, probably a trust thing,” she notes. “See if you can find out how widespread this goes. We need a headcount for who knows about us.”

“Done,” affirms Copley. “If wherever she took you is safe, stay there until you have a plan. Call me in three days on the Sparrow line.”

Nile agrees. Once she’s hung up, she smashes the phone thoroughly, then drops it in the back of the toilet tank to be safe. 

* * *

It’s hard to know where to start with asking Quynh questions once they’re all back in the living room. So Nile does her best to get the ball rolling. “How did you get out of the water? As I understand, you had to have been too deep for any oxygen to be left to oxidize the iron shackles.”

“It is a simple answer, though I know the simplest are hardest to accept. It took me several centuries to move, scant millimeters at a time, to a place where there was oxygen in the water. I never had more than a second or two before I drowned again, sometimes not even that, to move further,” explains Quynh, speaking in Italian as she did last night. “Once I could tell that I was getting a few extra seconds to experience the dying process, I stayed put and waited for the iron to rust over another century.”

“Why not keep moving?” asks Booker. “Try to make it to shore?”

Quynh gives a slight shrug. “I barely had the presence of mind to think of much, but I didn’t know where I was. I was afraid if I kept moving, I might end up in the depths again and all my work for naught.”

Nile takes her cues from Booker and Quynh and switches to Italian as well. It’s the lingua franca of the group anyway, so it’s easy enough. “You knew all of that about iron?”

“The study of metals and their properties has been around for millennia,” answers Quynh. “I used to be quite the swordsmith once upon a time.”

“But the dreams?” asks Booker.

“I’m not certain, but my best theory is that the dreams change about a person when you die. Drowning was the last time I died, so I could see changes with the two of you, but you couldn’t with me. And it happened so often, that I think even if my theory was wrong, drowning was the expectation. You had no reason to suspect more, so you did not look for it.”

Nile can’t help but think that makes sense. They had a given value of normal and they accepted it at face value. 

“Why didn’t you come back to me?” begs Andy, speaking for the first time that day. She’s always somewhat reserved, but it's been more unnerving today. 

The tremor in her voice breaks Nile’s heart. She’s not the only one. Booker squeezes Andy’s knee and Joe has tears in his eyes. 

Quynh makes an aborted movement like she realizes she may not have permission to do this yet. “I didn’t even know what year it was. I had to relearn so much.”

“You have always been a fast learner,” says Nicky and while his tone is kind, there’s a hint of reproach there, suggesting he won’t accept that as the only reason.

Quynh sighs. “Still holding us all accountable, young Nicolo.”

Nile wants to laugh at the idea of Nicky being young, though to Andy and Quynh, she supposes he would be. It’s a trait he clearly hasn’t lost. Nile asked him about it once, sitting on a bench under stars near Vienna’s Karlskirche. Nicky had simply told her that when he fought in that ugly first Crusade, there was no one to hold them accountable and the deeds committed were horrific indeed. If they need to make difficult choices or take on a troubling task, so be it, but they will be accountable for their actions now. 

Quynh is continuing, so Nile refocuses. 

“As soon as I had a grasp on reality--slim as it was--my thirst for revenge was all-consuming. I killed most of the descendants of the two men who led those trials without even considering my actions, with intent to continue with any that I could find whose lineage could be traced back to that ship.”

Nile can’t be the only one who wants to know what stopped her from her vendetta, but how to ask seems daunting. 

Quynh offers an explanation anyway. “I don’t know what compelled me to stay by the side of the last, a young woman. She was very calm against the thought of a death, but she asked if I could tell her why so that she might offer me forgiveness. I couldn’t, but it struck something in me. I knew then that I couldn’t see you, my Andromache. Not you nor Yusuf or Nicolo, Certainly not these new ones. Not until I’d exorcised these demons. I couldn’t just come back.” Her voice is pleading, begging them to understand. 

Nile thinks she does, at least a little. “You wanted to be able to come  _ home _ ,” she says with emphasis. 

Quynh nods. “So I went to work on it. I went to Vietnam. I learned how much had changed. I started this thing called therapy--it was a bit difficult at first with trying to hide so much. But when I admitted there were things I could never talk about--I couched it as though it was classified information--he suggested some techniques I could learn that minimized talking and that I could do on my own as needed. And then I studied. I couldn’t bear to be a burden when I returned. I decided to learn as much as I possibly could and when I could think about those who had wronged me without wanting to see every person of their line bloody at my feet, I would find you.”

“But you found Nile sooner?”

“I kept tabs on all of you. I’ve been watching this research project for over a year now, trying to fight it from the outside. Circumstances pushed me closer than I intended.”

Quynh is solemn as she speaks. “I’m not better yet, though I am close. But I’m here now, so it seems fate determined it to be time.”

Andy nods and stands up. “I need a few minutes,” she begins, shaking her head as both Nile and Joe start to rise. “Alone. Please. You can keep talking, ask questions, I just need some time.” But as she exits the room, she detours to pass by Quynh, and runs an unsteady hand across Quynh’s shoulders, and Quynh stills in response.

In an odd way, it’s comforting. Andy’s always preferred to process solo--it’s one of the major traits that she shares with Nicky--so her leaving means she’s willing to process. 

Nile thinks this may not be as difficult as she first thought. They made it through Booker, they can make it through this. 

* * *

As the explanations and conversation continue, this time with a little bit more ease, as Joe catches Quynh up on the years pre-Nile and pre-Booker, Nile listens but also takes a moment to observe Quynh for herself. 

Joe and Nicky have told her (and Booker, who mostly passed on things he learned from a drunken Andy) a few more stories over the years, doing their best to add to the image of her, beyond the death and the screams. 

It doesn’t do the woman justice. 

Her voice is calm, elegant, like a lazy river winding through the trees. Yet underneath is this tightly coiled energy. She has an awareness that sees everything in the room and something tells Nile that’s not hypervigilance brought on by centuries at the bottom of the ocean. 

Andy’s the sort of person that walks into a room and everyone takes notice. Joe likes to tell Nile that she has it too.

Nile doesn’t disagree, not necessarily, but sometimes it’s hard to find that presence around Andy. 

Quynh doesn’t seem to have quite the same presence, not physically, but then she speaks and Nile can see how easily she commands a room all the same.

* * *

Nicky says something that makes Joe and Quynh laugh. The Italian words are too old for Nile to understand, so she asks about it. Joe starts to answer in English, but Quynh cuts him off. 

“It’s an old reference to Andy’s sweet tooth,” she explains in Italian again. 

Nile frowns. Now that she thinks about it, Quynh deters the conversation back to another language anytime someone uses English. “Do you not speak English?” she asks, then promptly turns red at the way she sounds. “I didn’t mean it like you have to, I was just surprised.”

Quynh smiles in understanding, clearly not taking offense. “I don’t speak it well considering what you know as English was barely beginning to develop when I was taken. I learned during these last few years as it was evident that some fluency in the language is still essential.”

“But you’ve switched to Italian every time one of us uses it?”

“The Italian is because it was our language for so long, I made an assumption that it still was. The assumption held true,” answers Quynh. “But English was also the only language screaming in my mind for half a millennia, so I would rather not hear its harshness any more than I have to.” 

And well, Nile’s not about to argue with that. Shit.

* * *

They take breaks, through the day, processing all that Quynh has to say. 

Andy comes in and will sit for a time, listening, offering a piece of information here or there. She touches some part of Quynh as she enters and exits the room. 

After the first couple of rounds, Nile can’t stand the awkwardness. “Booker and I are going to call Copley and see what kind of a plan we can come up with,” she says, standing and giving Booker a look. He returns with a slightly confused look of his own but stands up anyway.

“Nile, you don’t have to leave,” protests Joe. “We can all work together on a plan.”

“It’s really not about that,” explains Nile. 

“Then what is it?”

“You all need to talk,” she says, gesturing at them. 

Joe makes a face, though Nicky looks like he’s starting to catch on. “We are talking. All of us. Together.”

“It’s not the same. You four have centuries together. You have memories and love and I don’t think you can tell me that a part of you doesn’t want to stop asking questions and just be happy you’re together again.” Nile tries to smile as kindly as possible. “I know we all have some more questions and more to talk about, but for an hour or so, just be. Exist in each other’s presence again.”

“She’s right,” says Booker. 

“I am hurt by her silence,” says Andy, stopping Booker and taking his hand. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m minimizing that when you’ve done such penance.”

Booker shakes his head. “It’s not the same, Andy. I appreciate the concern, I do, but I made active choices to betray you, without any valid justifications for my actions. And we haven’t even shared a full two centuries together yet. You walked the earth with Quynh for millennia. Be happy, boss.”

He follows Nile down the hall. As they pass out of earshot, Nile sees Joe pull Quynh to him for a hug and to the couch, just as Nicky tugs at Andy’s hand and the four of them lean into each other for the first time in far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things to consider in this story. One is that this is a story about Nile and about family and so the military subplot will be resolved without a whole lot of devotion to the plotting and planning of it. And two is that we'll get into this more in the next couple chapters, but like Booker points out, Quynh has been a part of the family for a very long time. Even her needing a few years before she felt like coming home could never be a big deal. I just can't write a world where they hold her at a distance. Not with how much they've missed her and still love her. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Come talk to me on tumblr too. http://www.onlymystories.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty sure I said this before, but in this fic, Booker/Nile are only platonic friends. I will admit there are a few fics that have made me go “okay, I see you got there with them being romantic” but I haven’t reached the point of “YES, I SHIP IT”. Mostly cuz I also ship Nile with Andy a hell of a lot and I like poly-guard and yeah. But, no matter what, I am here for the Booker/Nile friendship, for the mutual understanding of each other. I live for that.  
> This is a longer chapter than usual, but I very much wanted to get to the point that we end on, to recenter back on familial bonds and on Nile. Though I do move pretty quickly to finishing the mission, because cramming them all into a tiny apartment in Rotterdam only works for so long. And some of the conversations have to happen without this threat looming over them.  
> There are definitely a couple moments in here where it would make sense to mention Lykon, but I didn’t really map out a history for him, so I didn’t include references. But he was still very important to them! (And I’m so excited for Lykon!Week)  
> Some small warnings for alluded references to racism and assault. If you would like to know the details before reading, please jump to the end notes.  
> Some of the scenes in this chapter have been written for weeks, I’m so excited for y’all to read them. Also one scene is outside of Nile’s POV, but it was too important to me to give Andy and Quynh a moment to themselves. I hope I did them justice because I still feel like Andy is the hardest character for me to get a lock on when it comes to writing her.

“So are we going to talk about this?” asks Booker once Nile closes the door behind them, leaving the other four to their moments of privacy. 

“About what?” asks Nile. “The plan of attack? I feel like that’s pretty simple. Find out how sure Quynh is that there are only four people who know about us, destroy any records outside of this research facility, make sure the ones left are all there at the same time and blow the fuck out of the place.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Simple.”

Booker’s look of judgment is a thing to behold. “I meant Andy and Quynh and you know it.”

Nile bites back the first dozen things she wants to say in response. It’s not like he made a lucky guess. She saw the looks that Nicky and Joe were passing this morning before the others woke up. No one is blind to the fact that things are...well, kinda funky now. The difference is that Booker is the one who will call her on it. “I’m fine.”

“And fine means?”

Nile should never have suggested they all watch The Italian Job on a post-mission, Booker-inclusive movie night a few years ago. Fine hasn’t been an acceptable emotion since. She sighs. “Okay no, I’m not fine. Or...whatever, you know what I mean. What am I supposed to do about it, Book? It’s Quynh. There’s over five _thousands_ years of history there. I can’t compete with that.”

“No one’s asking you to compete, Nile,” he says, frowning slightly. “Your feelings matter too. I know you and Andy haven’t really defined what you are, but the last decade still matters. Even if you think it’s just a blip. Time doesn’t really work that way.”

“You remember every detail of the last 260 years?”

Booker shakes his head. “No, of course not. But when I live each year, the days matter. They don’t fly by just because I know I’ll likely still be around a century later. The same goes for everyone else. Sometimes you blink and miss a year or two. Sometimes it's one of the most prevalent in your life. And I promise you, the last ten have stood out to Andy by a longshot.”

The problem, thinks Nile, is that she’s not even sure what she feels. At least, not in all the right ways. It’s like, as a 37-year-old woman, she loves Andy very much. But at the same time, she’s a decade into this life, staring into the abyss of immortality. Is she ready to declare a forever? When forever has a whole new meaning?

“What if I don’t know exactly what I feel? Or what I want?” she asks, sinking to the floor and dropping her head to her knees.

Booker’s arm falls over her shoulders a moment later. “Then you don’t know. But it sounds like you needed to have that talk with Andy a while ago and you both have been getting away with putting it off.”

Nile leans her head against Booker. “You just might have a point there, Book. You just might have a point.”

* * *

They give it about an hour, enough that Nile’s butt is totally asleep, to let the others talk. 

“We should probably go back out there,” says Booker eventually. 

Nile nods. “I know, can’t let it be the new kids vs the old folks right?”

Booker snorts. “We’d lose in a heartbeat.”

“Only if they can catch us,” returns Nile. “We know how to get around in the modern world. They just know how to murder us with ancient weapons.”

“They’re not that bad,” protests Booker. 

“I sent Nicky a news article about a recent Supreme Court case that was a major victory for women’s rights in the US and he sent me a feminist Ryan Gosling meme in response,” says Nile.

“At least it was a reference from this century,” protests Booker, though he’s laughing too hard for her to take seriously. “Come on though, let's get up off this floor and get some answers.”

* * *

The break clearly did the others some good. Joe and Nicky are on the couch, but Quynh’s got a hand tucked in Nicky’s and is perched up in the corner of the couch, with one leg crossed beneath her. The other is stretched out just enough to cross ankles with Andy in the chair next to them. 

Some of the uncertainty seems to have eased and Nile can tell there’s a little less tension in Andy’s shoulders. She tries not to think about what that could mean for her personally.

But Andy pulls another chair to her side and motions for Nile to sit, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close when she does. Joe shuffles a bit on the couch to make room and Booker settles in as well. 

“So about this the US government wanting us dead thing,” says Booker. “How certain are you that the information is contained to one base and four people?”

“I can be certain of the people because I’ve killed everyone else,” returns Quynh. She has that same absurdly proud of herself look that Nicky gets after an especially good sniper shot. Joe and Andy roll their eyes simultaneously.

“Always a healthy approach. And the information?” continues Booker.

Quynh nods. “I’m lets say 98.8% sure about the information. That’s why I’d been to see your man Copley, I thought he could get us to 100%.”

“That was a week ago,” protests Nile. 

“Right after I left him, the bugs I had planted caught wind of the attack plan. My focus became to find an escape plan and get you out.”

“Copley could have helped.”

“I didn’t know that,” replies Quynh. “I trusted him with intel because you do. Your lives are another thing altogether. And I’m sure they have eyes on him somehow. As the unknown factor, this keeps you safe. Well. Safer,” she amends. 

Nile shakes her head. “I still can’t believe they came after us with an actual missile. How are they going to explain that one?”

Joe makes an unpleasant noise and Nile looks up sharply. It’s a sound that he makes when the answer to something is ugly, sometimes sexist or homophobic, but usually racist. 

“What?”

“They’ll probably create a story of a gas explosion,” offers Andy. “That time of day, it’s unlikely too many neighbors saw the actual device before it hit.

“I get that, but that’s not what Joe’s talking about,” Nile says, still frowning. “Is it?”

Nicky takes the answer. “Like many countries, Belgium’s views on their Muslim population have been unfortunate for some time. If anyone was to investigate further, or try to argue that the explosion didn’t seem gas related, it’s likely there would be a release of information that was generally vague except when describing Joe, and they’d let people come up with their own conclusions.”

Nile sighs heavily. “The world really fucking sucks sometimes.”

She’s met with murmured agreement from everyone. 

“Anyway,” continues Quynh, “I’ve spent the last two years working on this, as I said, I’m very certain of my information. Just get Copley to confirm that no specific details have made it from Pine Gap to the Pentagon and we can go down there and finish this.”

The others look to Nile. “Are you familiar with Pine Gap?” asks Andy.

“With its existence?” asks Nile. “Sure. With the company line of what they focus on? Absolutely. But with the rumors? Not a fucking chance. That shit is locked up tight.”

Joe sighs. “Certainly sounds like a secret government research facility.”

“There are multiple buildings on the base, but tucked about 100 miles inland is another bunker,” says Quynh. “All of my intel says that’s the one where they’ve been focused on finding all of you. Well, us, technically, but they don’t know I exist. That’s the one we need to get to.”

“I need a new burner,” says Nile, standing and stretching. “I’ll tell Copley what we need from him.”

* * *

At some point in the trading of stories about how Nile joined the team and the dragging them all to therapy and the catching Quynh up on things--because even in her three years, she can’t possibly know everything since she learned how to exist in a modern world, not what happened in the last several centuries, they switch to making dinner. Lunch had mostly been snacks through the day, as one or another meandered to the kitchen area for something to drink, then dug through the fridge. 

Quynh had explained she’d just shopped for a variety, not really knowing if tastes were still the same, but trying to get things that sounded familiar or that she’s learned to enjoy in recent years.

Nicky and Andy are put on prep work, where, in typical fashion, they create a competition based on who can use the most unnecessary weapon to do the best job. (Andy’s faster, but Nicky’s more precise as it turns out.) Booker takes the job of passing Joe whatever he calls for and soon the smells of marinated steak with seared veggies fill the air. 

Nile sits at the table and pours wine for herself and Quynh while they observe the chaos. 

Joe reaches into the cabinet to dig through the spices, pulls out a couple, and looks over at Quynh.

“Saffron,” she tells him.

Joe nods and swaps out a couple of the spices, choosing a different assortment. 

“Much better,” says Quynh, taking a long drink of her wine as she relaxes in her chair. 

Nile’s amused by the particular style of relaxation. They all seem to have a twin in the group when it comes to personality traits. Quynh seems to share Nicky’s style. Her laughter and speech and general physical movements say relaxed, but there’s something in her posture that says she can snap to high alert in a split second. Nicky’s like that.

Joe and Andy are sort of similar, in that they’ll get on track when they need to, but if they’ve relaxed, it takes a minute to readjust. Joe more so than Andy, though now Nile’s left wondering if that’s because Joe still has his knife, whereas Andy’s been missing hers.

Nile on the other hand feels the same way that Booker does about sleep and relaxing. If she’s asleep, everyone else better fuck right off. 

She’s broken out of her reverie when Nicky loses his grip on his baselard and the blade comes flying at Nile. She snatches it out of midair and throws it back with a touch more force than strictly necessary.

Nicky grins sheepishly, then leans over to whisper something in Joe’s ear. It earns him a kiss and a look that makes all of them yell at the sappiness.

* * *

“I don’t mean to be super rude, but how do you seem so normal? So well-adjusted?” asks Nile once they’re all finally sitting down to dinner. It's been bothering her for most of the day. “Five hundred years is a long time with just your own thoughts.”

Quynh doesn’t seem bothered by the question at all, in fact, if Nile knew her better she would say Quynh’s been expecting it. “I suppose in a sense, it was because it was difficult to really register time. After the first fifty or so deaths, time in its modern sense doesn’t exist. And of course, the idea of defining time in specific increments is one that has changed in my life, more often than you might think. There were many times when I couldn’t have told you if I was awaking every few seconds or every few years. It’s not that I was able to have an astral experience or separate my mind from what was going on, but after a while, it’s just death over and over again. I could have been there for 5 years or 500 and it would all be the same.”

“I get that,” says Booker. “I had your deaths in my head for so long, that it just became my new existence.”

“Still didn’t make me betray my family once I was free,” snips Quynh in French, adding a few scathing insults about Booker’s manhood.

Awkward silence floods the room until Booker claps his hands and laughs. “Fair point, fair point. I cede the floor, I’m here to listen.”

“Oooh,” laughs Quynh. “Finally an immortal man who will listen to me.” She flips back to speaking Italian, so they all do the same. Nile’s just glad it’s Italian. She’s learned a lot in a decade, but there are only a handful that feel natural to her.

“I listen to you,” protests Joe, absolutely pouting from the bench he’d added in to stretch the amount of seating around the table. He and Nicky both seem relaxed, but Nile’s noticed that Joe hasn’t stopped running his fingers in steady patterns and twists along Nicky’s arms, like a never-ending reassurance.

Quynh looks ridiculously elegant as she rolls her eyes at Joe. “You never listened to me a day in your life unless I was giving you ideas for the bedroom. You listen to Nico and the only woman he listens to is Andromache. Now I can have my own and he’s very good.”

Her tone is teasing and the others laugh. Nile though, Nile watches Booker. Watches the way his eyes light up at the praise and she thinks maybe this is the catalyst they didn’t know they needed. Quynh’s resurrection of sorts pulled Booker back in, with an abruptness that settled quickly, and now Nile can tell none of them have any intention of extending his partial exile any longer.

But maybe they all needed Quynh, even the two of them who don’t really know her yet, in order to mix the group up a bit, find new ways to pair them together. Because Nile can see these little moments, little mannerisms, that explain why Nicky’s second only to Andy in not liking to talk about Quynh. He will, he told stories, but Joe did more of the telling. They both share an economy of movement, just as Joe and Andy share an ability to fill a room with their presence.

“Cheers to you,” says Nile, toasting Quynh. “I couldn’t handle it anywhere near as gracefully as you do.”

Quynh shrugs as she finishes another bite of her dinner. “This is the longest, obviously, but it’s hardly a unique experience. One learns to put things in perspecti...OW! Andromache!” She leans down to rub at her now aching shin where Andy clearly just kicked it. “Why would you do that?”

“What do you mean it wasn’t unique?” asks Nile. 

“Being captured, tortured, dying over and over again,” answers Quynh. “Honestly even the drowning was familiar, it was what, the 1600s BCE? Andromache and I spent almost a week in some horrid lake in China before we got free of our bindings.” She pauses to look at the others.

Nile echoes the movement, somewhat surprised by the looks. Booker is visibly disturbed and keeps glancing at Joe. Andy has that resigned stare that Nile was very used to when they first met, but that’s been so much better in recent years. The one that says she didn’t want to have to tell Nile something.

“We don’t dread capture because we are afraid of the idea of it,” says Nicky, “but because we have experienced the reality.”

Booker’s expression is horrified. He surreptitiously wipes at tears in his eyes.

Quynh sobers. “Nile,” she says, her voice incredibly kind, “It’s important to remember that none of you can truly understand just how long Andromache and I have lived.”

“I know,” says Nile with a nod. “You and Andy and Joe and Nicky have seen so much more than I can imagine.”

“Or myself,” offers Booker.

Quynh shakes her head. “Yusuf and Nicolo are like children in comparison.” She squeezes Nicky’s hand and gives a soft smile. “Perhaps teenagers now. They come from a world of kingdoms and empires. You and Booker come from worlds that shout of democracy. Andromache and I predate all of that. We had traveled the world for centuries, Andromache for more than a thousand years before the first dynasty ever rose into being.” She stops and goes back to her food for a moment, eating a few more bites. 

The table is silent, solemn. Nile’s trying her hardest, but there are times she can barely wrap her head around how long Joe and Nicky have been alive. This is another thing altogether.

Quynh finishes her food, sets her fork down, and takes up the story again. “That imprisonment fucked me up, as they say in this century, I’m not denying that. Any other time, captors eventually die, and this was different. But I do not like to dwell on such things. It is important that we learn to process the bad, acknowledge it happened, and move forward. The act of not staying dead isn’t the same as being unable to be wounded. Over the thousands of years on this earth, Andromache and I have been taken captive more times than we wish to count, left at the whims of others, usually men, until we were left for dead and could find our way to freedom. And men seeking power have a tendency to be predictable.” 

Quynh’s gaze is soft and focused on Andy. “I have known more pain and sorrow than a thousand women. I have also known more joy. So while I am not dismissing this particular pain, I’m simply saying that my frame of reference for how it impacts my life doesn’t look the same as it does for those of you who are still so young.”

Booker’s no longer alone in his tears at the table. Nile is overwhelmingly grateful that she joined this group now, when there were four others at her side, now five, and that she didn’t have to find her way like Andy and Quynh. 

Andy pushes her chair back from the table and stands, reaching a hand out to Quynh. “Can we talk?” she asks.

Quynh’s up in an instant, fitting into Andy’s side like it was made for her, as they walk out of the room. 

Nicky and Booker seem to take that as a sign and start to gather up the dishes. 

Nile rises to help them, but she feels a little bit off-kilter after Quynh’s words. When Joe opens his arms, she shifts to his side of the table instead, letting his hug push away all the thoughts in her head.

* * *

Andromache walks with her Quynh to the first of the two bedrooms, holding tight to her hand, but not saying anything just yet. She taps the door shut behind them with her foot.

As it clicks into place, Andy sinks to her knees in front of Quynh, wraps her arms around Quynh’s waist and rests her head against her, and she finally breaks down. “Why didn’t you come back to me?” she begs, barely able to get the words out. “I missed you like I would miss my own heart.”  
“You are my heart, Andromache,” replies Quynh, in a language far older than can be remembered. 

“Please forgive me.”  
“For what, my darling?”

“We stopped looking,” says Andy. “I stopped looking.”

Quynh tilts her chin up, forcing Andy to blink past her tears to see Quynh’s face. “I forgive you, though there is nothing to forgive. Though I may have wished otherwise, you could not have found me for many centuries.”

“I wish you hadn’t stayed away for so long. I wish I could have helped you.”

Quynh leans down and kisses Andromache. She keeps it simple, chaste, a kiss of surety. “I knew I was going to have bad days, that there will be times when I lash out at you, or Nicolo or Yusuf.” She pauses. “Well, maybe not Yusuf. It is always so difficult to yell at him. I can’t help that.”

“We would never blame you,” protests Andromache.

“I know,” says Quynh reassuringly. “But I wanted to be able to recognize those moments. I needed to know my triggers and to know that I was coming back because no matter what shit we have to get through, at the core is my love for you. If I have that, I can learn how to fight through the rest.”

She pushes a little at Andy’s arms, making her stand up, and directs her towards the bed. “Now it is time for sleep, my sweet. We have some revenge to take tomorrow and someday soon, a longer discussion that it seems Nile should be a part of.” 

Andy’s quiet for a moment, tugging her boots and jeans off before sliding under the blanket as directed. “I really like her, Quynh. I thought she’d be the positive version of Booker, someone I could mentor, but she’s not. She refuses to be anything but a protector. I need you to love her as I do.”

“My dearest Andromache, I have always followed your lead in love, I won’t stop now,” answers Quynh, sitting beside Andy. “If you love her, tell her and see what she says in return.” She strokes her fingers over Andromache’s forehead, soft circular movements as Andy’s eyes close. “I am here. I will not leave you again.”

* * *

When they finish the dishes, Joe settles in on the couch with a sketchbook, Nicky dozes, his head a makeshift desk for Joe as needed. 

Booker reads at the other end, letting Nicky stretch his feet out on top of him.

Nile glances between them. She should probably find something to do in here, but she can’t help but glance down the small hallway.

“Go,” says Booker.

“I…” she says with uncertainty.

“Nile,” says Nicky, “Start with saying goodnight. Let Andromache guide the rest of the conversation. You worry about things that may not come to pass.”

The wisdom of that is what drives Nile the extra few feet and turns her hand on the doorknob.

She pauses at the door once it's open. Andy is asleep, peaceful sleep that Nile rarely sees, head on Quynh’s chest, one arm slung across her. The other arm is slung out away from her body and probably within a foot of at least three different weapons. Nile’s breath catches. 

It’s a sight she’s wanted for years, this chance to see Andy happy and at peace. It’s also the thing she’s dreaded, the tiny voice that whispers during a kiss, that screams in the night when she’s deep in an exhausted sleep, worn out after Andy and Joe bet on who can make their partner louder in bed. It’s the thing that says you were always a placeholder. No matter how long you had her, she belonged to Quynh first.

Nile moves back and reaches to softly close the door again. 

“Nile,” says Quynh softly, careful not to move. 

“Yes, Quynh?” 

“This is your bed, is it not?”

Nile hesitates. “Well…”

“In a manner of speaking,” corrects Quynh. “When you sleep, the two of you sleep together. Yes?”

“I don’t want to intrude…”

“It is not an intrusion,” replies Quynh, her voice still gentle, like Nile is some sort of skittish deer. “You fit at her side very well, and she fits with you. See, she left space for you.” Quynh inclines her head at the open space on the bed next to Andy.

Nile hesitates, still uncertain. “It’s different now. You’re here and…”

Quynh smiles. It’s teasing, slightly, but also kind and Nile can see why Andy was --is--in love with her. “It will be different, this is true. But my Andromache has always had a big heart and I am no stranger to sharing her love. I knew the moment I saw the two of you together.”

Nile wants to come in, she wants to curl in against Andy’s back, to be that person that says you may always go in first, but I will always have your back. But she’s scared, scared to lose. Scared to want. Scared to wonder about what’s next.

“Nile,” says Quynh again. “For tonight, just sleep. And tomorrow, do the same. In time, we can all learn together what different will look like.”

* * *

In the morning, Nile wakes to Andy tucked against her, the voices of Quynh, Joe, and Nicky coming from the kitchen. The shower is going, so that accounts for Booker. She considers, for a moment, how to start this conversation about the future. About how they continue.

She considers waking Andy up, but her face is soft in sleep and so Nile stays her hand. Maybe she will just take Quynh’s advice and let this take a little time. 

Get through the mission first. Get to a point of being safe. Then they can figure out the rest.

* * *

Another couple of days laying low and then Copley has the information they need. The how is laid out quickly thereafter and as soon as they get their travel options sorted, complete with falsified passports, they’re on their way.

It feels too easy, their mission to shut down this secret research branch, but it isn't. They’re all very good at what they do. Copley's reached out to his guy in Portland for help, his ability to circumvent surveillance is unparalleled. He says it helps that this is an off the books project. All the security tapes are on closed-circuit cameras. The risk of interception is too high so all recordings are saved and what files are deemed necessary are couriered to the Pentagon from the main base on a weekly basis. 

They’ve timed it meticulously. The courier left yesterday, so no one outside will be expecting word for almost a week. Then this Alec guy that Copley reached out to put together a program to substitute old recordings. The courier picks up the tapes from a secure locker on the base, so they can leave one set of false tapes there, to give a little more escape room.

He warned them that it will likely only give them an extra week based on the communication between the head of this project and his superiors in Washington.

But that’s all they need. 

It’ll give them nearly two weeks to set up a wild goose chase trail just in case--though there should be no way to follow them anyway. 

After that, they’re going back to the Agadir house, where they’ll take a breather for the next few decades. It’s a long break, but Copley said they wouldn’t be able to do much, not if they want to be sure that no one is left alive to bear witness to their existence.

Nile worried it would be too much, that the others would be upset with her, but no one seemed bothered at all.

They all had ideas and plans for how to use their time, though it was Nicky’s words that reassured her the most. 

**_Flashback_ **

_“What about all the people we won’t be able to help?” asks Nile._

_Nicky smiles and pulls her in close. “We don’t have to die to help people, Nile. Do you know the story of the little girl who saved the starfish on the beach?”_

_Nile nods. It’s a new enough story that she’s somewhat surprised it entered Nicky’s lexicon. “Everyone watching her is critical, because there are thousands of starfish on the beach, how can she begin to help? But she reaches down, picks up another to throw it back in the water, and says ‘made a difference to that one’,” answers Nile._

_“Sometimes,” explains Nicky, “We save an entire beach of starfish. Sometimes we make a difference to one at a time. We will still do good, we are just adjusting the scales.”_

**_End flashback_ **

And so they go into the mission fully prepared, ready to take on whatever comes at them. 

For the most part, it’s incredibly smooth. They take out anyone in their way with ease, destroy the records as they go, set up explosives to bring the entire thing down on their way out. The particular bunker they need is far enough from the main base (and off-limits to everyone else) that no one will be any wise

Nile and Nicky had both worried initially about collateral damage until Quynh showed them the other “research” being done at this facility. 

It’s easy. 

It is way too fucking easy.

Because Andy bursts through the final door and Nile is right there at her six, her head scanning the room for all threats. 

Across the room, Dizzy stares back at her. 

Nile freezes.

Dizzy’s older, obviously, though not by a lot. Like Nile, Dizzy’s only in her 30s at this point. And she knew, Nile knew, that Dizzy had chosen to believe Nile died that day in Afghanistan. That was made clear that long-ago day before Andy kidnapped her. But this? Nile’s not ready for this. She’s not ready to see the woman she once loved with everything in her, the woman who was her best friend before all else, standing in front of her with hate and disgust in her eyes. 

There are people yelling at her. Nile’s team is screaming her name, but Nile can’t see them. 

She can’t see anything but Dizzy. How her eyes narrow, her lips curl, and her arm lifts a gun into the air, that she fires directly at Nile. 

Nile falls.

* * *

When she wakes, Booker and Joe are at her side, swinging her up, turning her away. 

No one is shooting at her anymore.

They run out of the building, detonating the explosives as soon as they’re in the car, speeding to the private plane that will take them to the next step in the escape plan. 

Nile goes where she’s led, not registering much of anything.

Andy says her name once, reaches a hand back to grab onto Nile.

Nile shakes her head. “Don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me who killed her.”

“Okay, Nile,” says Andy. “Okay.”

* * *

Nile wakes up again. 

She’s in bed. This time, it’s the bed in Morocco. There are flashes of memories in her mind, moments of cramming together, of tiny safehouses, of a cave or two, then an underground bunker.

Here and there, Andy and Quynh talk low in what must be the same room, glancing over to meet Nile’s gaze. They look worried each time.

She feels clean, not caked with layers of the grime of a mission, so she must have had enough awareness in whatever fugue state she’s been in to at least shower. Nile reaches up to touch her hair. It’s braided simply, two somewhat loose braids, which tells her that she wasn’t with it enough to manage that, so Joe must have done that much for her.

Nile sits up against the pillows, pulls her knees to her chest, and shivers against the warmth of the room. 

She’s dead. 

Not Dizzy, though Nile will mourn that loss too.

No, right now, with more clarity than Nile has been gifted or cursed with in over a decade, Nile is forced to come to an understanding about herself. 

She’s dead. 

Oh she lives and she’s immortal and there will come a day when this moment no longer registers, but now, in this moment, it hits her harder than ever before, just how much she’s lost.

There was a time once when she thought she’d go to funerals. That she could disguise herself and watch from a distance, but have her moment to say goodbye to her first family, to her first friends. Nile knows now she won’t. She can’t bear the idea that anyone might see her, might look at her face the same way Dizzy did. 

Might look at her like they want nothing to do with her ever again.

* * *

She leaves her bedroom, makes her way to the liquor cabinet. 

There’s noise coming from the backyard, it sounds like sparring, Andy must have them training, and the din is loud enough that any noise she makes is easily masked.

Nile takes several long pulls off the bottle that she grabs without looking. The burn isn’t as bad as she expects, so she probably has one of Andy’s better vodkas in hand. Normally, Nile wouldn’t be mean enough to keep it, but today, she can’t bring it in herself to give a fuck.

She picks up her sword in her other hand as she walks out the door, waves it in the air. “Is it my turn for a go?” she questions. 

The looks of sympathy make her want to scream. How dare they look at her like that? Like they know what she’s lost, what she’s had to give up.

“I think we’re done with training for the day,” says Andy.

Quynh gathers the swords from the others. Nile passes hers over as well. Not like it matters. 

She drinks more.

“Nile,” says Joe, his voice kind and oh how Nile hates that. He reaches for the bottle and Nile spins it away. 

She has a right to be drunk. She has a right to be angry. Why didn’t anyone warn her that one day it would hurt like this? Why didn’t they tell her?

“Of course you have every right to be angry,” says Nicky, so she must have been saying that out loud. 

Andy’s with them, worry evident in her eyes. Booker’s at her side, his hand reaching for hers. “Don’t you dare,” she spits. “You don’t get to tell me how to grieve.”

But Booker’s hand isn’t reaching for the vodka. He just guides her to the grass and makes her sit, Andy coming to her other side. “How you grieve is entirely up to you, Nile,” he says. “But you are the one who taught us that it would have been better to share with each other where we could. So we will be here.”

Nile takes a breath.

She takes a drink. 

She weeps for all that she has lost.

But she is not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference to racism is in discussing how a missile will be explained and the idea that the news would fixate on a description of Joe as a way to keep a lot of people from looking too close. No one is happy about the idea, obviously.  
> The assault allusion stems from Nile asking Quynh how she can be so well-adjusted to life after so many years basically buried alive. Quynh’s explanation is that while 1) she’s not that well-adjusted in some regards, 2) over the years, she and Andromache have been through a lot. Through the conversation, Quynh makes a remark that men seeking power have a tendency to be predictable. And Nile picks up on what she’s saying without saying it.  
> I’m playing it fairly loose on the logic front, but I made the presumption that if the military hunt for immortals is an extremely secret task, then it’s unlikely they have as much surveillance as they want to. If they could track their every move, it wouldn’t have taken a decade to find them. It’s fanfiction, we make allowances.  
> I didn’t answer a lot of questions from the last chapter so as not to spoil this one, but I will answer more now, so speculate away!

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I really do know that Nicky’s background as a Crusader and a priest means that at some point he would have some issues reconciling what he was taught and how he feels about Joe. (I don’t want to say Joe had the same issues because honestly the Crusades were about so much more than the Western idea of a “holy war” and we don’t have time for that, but like it’s hard to say about Joe. Nicky was a priest, so I get that’s easier). Anyway, so I get that it makes sense for this to be in so many fics. It’s just...ugh, like sometimes I just want them to be totally chill. Like look people have their tiny little minds made up but we’ve been around a long ass time and immortality gets boring so God and Nicky are actually super chill so maybe there doesn’t need to be this whole angst about it. Or you know, as a queer woman of faith I’m projecting a lot. Anyway.
> 
> Lastly, I'm onlymystories on tumblr so please come talk to me all day about my favorite immortal found family.


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